COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 



i 



ONE ACT PLAYS BY GERTRUDE JENNINGS 

Published at one shilling net each by Samuel pRENCH.Liniited . 



ACID DROPS. One male, six female characters. 

ALLOTMENTS. Two female characters, both of which can 
be impersonated by men if desired. 

AT THE RIBBON COUNTER. Three female characters. 

THE BATHROOM DOOR. Three male, three fem.ale char- 
acters. 

BETWEEN THE SOUP AND THE SAVOURY. Three 
female characters. 

BOBBIE SETTLES DOWN. One male, three femal, 
characters. 

ELEGANT EDWARD. Eour male, one female characters. 

FIVE BIRDS IN A CAGE. Three male, two female char- 
acters. 

NO SERVANTS. One male, five female characters. 

'' EM SORRY—IT'S OUT I" Seven female characters 

IN THE CELLAR. Three male, three female characters. 

POACHED EGGS AND PEARLS. Three male, six female 
characters. 

THE REST CURE. One male, four female characters. 

THE NEW POOR- One male, four female characters. 

WAITING FOR THE 'BUS. Two male, ten female characters. 



FOUR ONE ACT PLAYS BY GERTRUDE JENNINGS. 
In one volum.e, containing " The Rest Cure," " Between 
the Soup and the Savoury," "The Pros and Cons," and 
"Acid Drops." Two Shillings and Sixpence net. 



COME OUT OF THE 
KITCHEN 

A Comedy in Three Acts 



a^^'thomas 



Made from the story of the same name 

BY 

ALICE DUER MILLER 



coin-RUiHT 1915 BY The Lxternational Macazink Company 
(harper's bazaar) 

COPVRK.HT 1916 (IX NOVEL FORM) BY ThK CeXTURY CoMPANV 
COPYRIGHT I92I BY A. E. ThOMAS 



All Rights Reserved 



NEW YORK 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30 WEST 38TH STREET 



LONDON 

SAMUEL FRENCH. Ltd. 

26 SOLTTHAMPTON STREET 

STRAND 



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'CI.D 5 6804 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 



Produced on March 15, 1920, at fche Strand Theatre, London, with the follow- 



mg 



Cast of Characters 



Age 
30 
55 

.25 
G 



Bfrton Ckane (From the North) 
Solon Tucker (His attorney and guest) . 
Paul Daingerfield {alias Smithfield) 
Charles Daingerfield (alias Brindlebury) 
Randolph Weeks (Agent of the Dainger- 

fields) 30 

Thomas Lefferts (Statistical poet) . . 28 

.♦Olivia Daingerfield (alias Jane Elien) . 22 

Elizabeth Daingerfield (alias Araminta) 20 

'Mrs. Falkeneb (Tucker's sister) . . ,^5^ 

'Cora Falkenee (Her daughter) . . 24 

Amanda (OUvia's black Mammy) . . (60 

Time. — The present. 

Palace. — ^The Daingerfield ma.nsioa in Virgin. 



Mr. Frederick Worlock 
Mr. H. Athol Fords, 
Mr. A lick Chv.mleij 
Mr. John Williains 

Mr. Edgar Norfolk 
Mr. Frank Denton 
Miss Gertrude Elliotl 
Miss Maud Buchmian 
Miss Molly Havihy-GUjfovA 
Miss Winifred MeCartJiy 
Miss Barbara GoU 



ACT 1 
The . Drawing-room of the Daisgerfield Mansion. 

ACT II 
The Kitchen. Two days later. 

ACT 111 
The Dining-room. The same day. 



flB 



\2 «^i\ 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN 

ACT I 

The Scene is : Drawmg-room of the Dainxjerfield Mansion— a rather 
stately, big, old fandhj homestead of the tyjncal Virginia country 
sort. There is a fireplace at r. tvindoivs at l. The entrance l.c. 
is from the hall at rear. When the door is oj^ened, the foot of the stair- 
case can he seen. All the furniture and appointments, tvhile origin- 
ally high class and still beaiitijul in their simple Colonial way, show 
signs of long use. Over the fireplace hangs on r. wall a portrait 
of Grandfather Daingerfield, in a Lieutenants uniform of the Gon^- 
federate States of America. On the mantel is a clock set and a little 
miniature of a young girl in the dress of 1840. It is beautifully 
set in gold frame. A jjlan of the scene will be found at the end. 

Elizabeth, Charlie and Paul Daingerfield are discovered. 
Charlie seated r.c, Elizabeth, wearing her hat and a walking suit, 
seated l.c, Paul standing c. In short the family is evidently ready 
for departure. Paul is the oldest of all the Daingerfield children, 
being about 24. He is a tall, slim, grave young man, thoughtful but 
with little initiative. Elizabeth is a year or so younger, inclined to 
plumpness — not a had s&rt but a little sulky by nature. Charlie 
is the youngest of the group, being a lad of scarcely 17, quick moving, 
spirited and rather merry. After the curtain rises, the three wre 
silent a moment. 

Paul (before speaking, wmvcs uj) stage then down again at c). 
Keckon the old place is going to miss us ? {A pause.) Been a 
long time since there weren't any Daingerfields at all under this roof. 
{A pause. He looks at painting over fireplace.) Grandfather Dainger- 
field looks a little reproachful, doesn't he ? Never mind, never 
mind, old boy. Of course it's pretty hard being left alone in the old 
house with a confounded Yankee millionaire, but after all it's only 
for six weeks. So for Heaven's sake, cheer up ! 

Charles {moves to front of table). That's the idea, grandad. 

'{Sits chair r.c) 
That's the idea, grandad, but don't look so grumpy. We're not 

7 



8 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

leaving you for long, and we don't like it any better tlian you do 
. , . but we need the money. 
Paul. Need tlie money ! I should say we do. 
Elizabeth {places miniature on table beside her, breaking her 
rather sullen silence for the first time). I don't like it. I don't like 
it at all. I've said so from the beginning. 

Paul {down to top of table r.). Heaven knows you have, Bess. 
You've said it and said it and said it until I'm beginning to get sick 
of the sound of your voice. 

Elizabeth. I don't believe father and mother would approve 
of it for a moment. 

Paul {seated armchair r. of r. table). Well, we've got to do the 
best we can. If poor old dad had his health, it would be different. 
Do you realize he and mother have been away almost a year ? 

Charles {coming to back of chair c). Year next week. 

Paul. Travelling around from one cure Bad to another and poor- 
dad getting worse all the time. 

Charles. Yes, going from bad to worse, so to speak. 

Elizabeth {rises, then moves up c). Charlie, how can you joke 
about such a thing 'i 

Charles {turns up c. stop-ping her). Gee, I'm sorry ! I didn't 
mean it. I'd give my right arm for dad if it would help him, and 
you know it. 

Elizabeth {suddenly, as if struck by a brilliant idea. Crosses to 
L. side o/Paul). Paul, why can't we mortgage the place ? {Back 
of table R.) 

Charles {laughing). Oh ! 

Paul {laughing). You ought to know perfectly well there's a 
mortgage on this house that weighs a ton. 

Charles. That's why it leaks so when it rains. {Coming down, 
and sits r. of table l.) 

Paul {at table r., strapping up bookt>). When this house w^as built, 
they put a mortgage on it before they put the roof on. And that 
mortgage got married and raised a big family and they're all alive 
still. Randy Weeks told me you couldn't raise another cent on 
this place to save your life. 

Elizabeth {below table r., reflectively). If only dad hadn't 
quarrelled with Uncle Jelf erson ! 

Paul. Yes. I know it's bad luck that dad should have fallen 
out with the only Daingerfield that has a cent — but he did, and now 
Aunt Josephine's got to take us in out of the wet for the next six 
weeks, and the poor old dear can't afford it either. 

Elizabeth. Well, I don't like it. . . . {Moves to back of chair 
I., of table. To Charles.) I don't like it. I say it again, what will 
people say ? 

Paul. What'U they say if we don't pay our bills ? 
(Elizabeth exclaims.) 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. . 9 

Charles. A!i now, Bess, wlicit^s the use of kicking ? It's too 
late now, anyhow, and think of the 5,000 dollars. 

Elizabeth. 5,000 dollars for six weeks ! Why, Paul, the man 
must be crazy ! It's bad enough to rent the place to a Northerner, 
but this man's evidently a lunatic as well. 

Paul. Not at all. He's just a rich man who doesn't care what 
it costs him so long as he gets what he want«. And just now he 
wants to live in an old-fashioned Southern country-home for six 
weeks in the height of the hunting season. 

Elizabeth {moves io chair l. of table r.c). Well, I don't like it. 

Charles {rises, exasperated a.nd goes ujt c). Go on and hate 
it, then. Have a good hate, only for Heaven's sake dry up ! 

Elizabeth. You know perfectly well you don't like it your- 
self. {Sits chair l. table.) 

Paul {rises and goes to mantel). Of course we don't — we only • 

Elizabeth. You wouldn't have consented to it at all if Livy 
hadn't talked you into it. It's all her doing. 

Charles {comes to hack of Elizabeth, digging her in the shoulder). 
Well, is it her fault if Livy's got more sense than all of us put together? 
Here's father and mother abroad fighting for father's life, and here 
we are at home dead broke an-.l not one of us got the gumption to 
raise a dollar till Livy up and shows us the way, and just because 
you don't think it's dignified — ( Taps Elizabeth's shoulder. Eliza- 
beth exdaims) — to rent the old place you sit around and sob. 
Dignified. 

Paul {comes to Charlie antl taj)s him. on r. shoulder, then turns 
up above table r.c). That's enough, Charlie ! {Moves hack to 
mantel.) 

Charles {not heedvmj him). Of course it ain't dignified, neither is 
starving. 

Elizabeth. Oh, I reckon we shouldn't starve. 

Charles. We'd starve, or beg, or sponge. Wliich would you 
rather do ? 

Elizabeth. Well, I tell you, I don't think 

Charles {throiving up his hands, and turning up c). Oh, Bess, 
for the sake of Heaven, please ! 

(Elizabeth rises and sits front of table.) 

(Charles turns and goes to r. quickly as he speaks.) 

(Enter Olivia at rear. This is the third Daingerfield in point of age, 
being a year or two older than Charles. She is of medium height, 
very slender and graceful, with hlue-grey eyes, light brown hair and 
mobile features. She is clearly the beauty of the family — arch, 
dainty, piquant, a bit of a flirt, humorous, quick, impulsive, in 
sJwrt a distracting young person. She, like the others, is dressed 
for going away. Elizabeth rises as Olivia enters.) 



10 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Charles {uj} r.c). Hello, Livy, thank the Lord you've come ! 

Olivia (c). What's the matter ? 

Charles. Sit on Bess for Heaven's sake, nobody else can do it. 
(Moves to golf clubs.) 

Olivia. What is it, Bess ? {Grosses to front of table l.c.) 

Elizabeth. I was only saying what I've said a dozen times 
before ; I don't like turning the old place over to a strange Yankee 
tenant, and I don't think father and mother would approve either. 

Olivia {crosses to Elizabeth). No dear, I reckon they wouldn't. 
I reckon they don't approve of e4irthquakes. Am you all ready ? 
{Goes to L.c. to back of table l.c.) 

Paul. Just waiting for Jack Curley to turn up with his wagon- 
load of servants. {Goes up R.) I thought he could take us back 
to town on his return trij). We'd only have an hour to wait for 
the up train and will get to Aunt Josephine's for dinner. {Close 
door, then doivn c. over to R. of Olivia.) 

Elizabeth. That's another thing. I wouldn't mind leaving 
the place so much if we were going to leave it in the Qa^ie— {meeting 
Olivia, who comes to her l.c. Paul crosses to mantel)~-oi our 
blessed old darkies, but this turning it over to four white servantsAOl^- 
from Washington — persons we've never seen in all our lives. 

Paul. Oh, they're all right. They've the best of recommenda- 
tions. 

Elizabeth. Well, all I've got to say is that any Yankee who 
doesn't know that Virginia negroes arc the best servants in the world 
has a lot to learn. 

Olivia. Yes, dear. {Then she adds, obviously to create a diver- 
sion.) I don't think your hat is quite straight. 

Elizabeth. Humph ! {However, she goes p'ompily to the con- 
sole mirror, l. between the ■windoivs.) 

Charles {coming to back of chair r.c, angrily). Bess makes me 
sick. You'd think to hear her talk that the rest of us had been 
sitting up nights, trying to find some way to drag the family honour 
in the dust and — — 

Olivia {crossing to him, and seizing his hand and inspecting the 
fingers closely). What's this ? 

Charles. What ? 

Olivia. Cigarettes again ! 

Charles {chagrined). ^W^ell, I can't help it. {Goes up r.c.) 

(Olivia folloivs up a bit.) 
{Enter Amanda at rear. This is a short, fat, typical old negro mammyy 
formerly Olivia's nurse and absolutely devoted to her. She carries 
a small bag that bears Olivia's initials. She is evidently much 
depressed.) 

Amanda. Here's youah little grip sack, Miss Livy. 
Olivia. Set it down by the door, please. 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 11 

(Elizabeth takes her hag from chair and places hy window.) 

Amanda. Ya'ass, Miss Livy. {Puts hag on chair l. of the door 
c. and drops duster.) 

Olivia. Have all the others gone ? 

Amanda {turning c). Ya'ass, Miss Livy. Dey all done gone. 

Olivia. Sam and Wash and Jeff and Liza ? 

Amanda {a step c. to Olivia). Ya'ass, Miss Livy, all of 'em. 

Olivia. You understand now, you're all to stay at the cabins 
until you're sent for. 

Amanda. Ya'ass'm. 

Olivia. You're not to come within half a mile of the house- 
not one of you- — you understand ? 

Amanda. Miss Livy, honey child how how long dish yer 
banishin' gwine foh to las^ ? 

Olivia. About six weeks. 

Amanda. Ain' I done gwine foh to see you— all foh six weeks ? 

Paul {down r. corner of mantel). No, Mandy, we're all going to 
stay with Aunt Josephine. 

Amanda. Mighty funny Ah calls it — mighty 

Olivia (reproving her). Mandy ! 

Amanda. Ya'ass'm. {A pause.) 

{Business.) 

Olivia {going to her). You mustn't worry, Mandy, we'll all be 
back soon. 

Amanda {drawing Olivia's head doivn to her capiacious hosom, 
and, petting her). Oh, honey ! My li'l lady baby. 

Olivia. There, there, you old dear — it's all right, it's all right. 
There now^ — ^there — you just run along — and don't forget to feed my 
doves. 

{Moves to the hack of chair l. of r. tahle.) 

Amanda. No'm, Ah ain' gwine fergit nothin'. {Going.) 

Olivia. Good-bye, Mandy, good- bye, don't you worry now. 

Amanda (c). No, Miss Livy, I ain' gwine worry needer {turns 
hack), but all I got to say is— dat dish yer Yankee man, he mus' be 
funny Yankee man when he don' wan' no niggahs roun' wen he done 
sent his own folk down here foh to set us free. An' oh. Miss Livy, I 
ain' gwine to let you go widout me. I jus' cain't do it. 

Paul {at l. corner of fireplace, sternly). Mandy ! 

Amanda {to Paul). Yas, sir. {Then to Olivia c.) Ah ain't 
nevah been 'way fum yer befoh, not since you was a li'l baby what 
I could lif wid one finger. Wo^n you all went to New Yawk wid 
yoh paw an' ma^v, didn't I go 'long too ? 

Olivia. Yes. 

Amanda. Wen you all was in Washin"ton w'en yoh paw was 



12 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

makin' all dem big laws, in the White House, didn't I go lono- too ? 

Olivia. Yes, I think you did. 

Amanda. Miss Livy, honey chile, why cain't I go wid you dm 
time too ? 

Olivia (e. o/ Amanda). I've told you, Mandy. Aunt Josephine's 
hardly got room in her little hovel for us. There wouldn't be any 
place for you. 

{Goes L. of chair, sittincj on arm.) 

Amanda. Listen, honey, listen. Ah doan' tak* uj) much room, 

{They all laugh.) 

And jes' as soon sleep on de flo'. 

Olivia {kindly, hut firmly). Mandy, that's enough. It's all 
settled. {Goes to Mandy.) 

Aaianda. Oh, Ah doan' want to leave you, Miss Livy, I doan' 
want to leave mah li"! lady baby. 

Olivia. Now don't be silly, Mandy. {Taking her hands.) It's 
all right. Now, honey, you run along. {Pushes Amanda a/}%d moves 
L. to above chair r. of table l.c.) 

Amanda. I'm gwine. . . . {Goes a few steps.) Oh, Miss Livy • 

{All turn.) 

Olivia. What ? 

Amanda. Ah done liab a terrible bad dream las' night. Ah 

Olivia, Hi, ha, ha ! C4et along with you. You're always 
having bad dreams. 

• Amanda. Yes, Miss Livy. But dish yer dream what I done Lab 
las' night {Coming doivn.) 

Olivia {ujatching Mandy). Run now, I mean it 1 Don't you 
forget a thing I've told you. 

Amanda. I cain't forget nuthin'. I never forget nuthin'. 
{Takes letter from skirt pockef. Laughs.) Oh, I clean forget dis 
here letter what Sam got over at de post office dis morning. But I 
never forgits nothin', honey, never. 

(Amanda exits laughing.) 
(Charles closes door after Amanda's exit.) 

Paul. Livy, who's your letter from ? 

Olivia {at chair l.c, looking at the envelope). Why, it's from 
mother. {Grosses to armchair r.c. and sits.) 

Charles. Where's it from ? {Coming down to Olivia's l. 
shoulder.) 

Olivia {who has torn it open). Switzerland. 

Paul. What's she say ? {Sitting on the back of the table and 
leaning over Olivia). 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 13 

Elizabeth (brings chair from L. and sits on the left side 0/ Olivia). 
How's father ? 
Olivia {reading). 

Lausanne, October 23rd. 
My Darlings : 

You will doubtless be anxious to hear how your father and I 
are faring in this strange land. You must have already received my 
last letter written on the day of our arrival. Well, since then, your 
father has been examined by the specialists at the Hospital. I ought 
not to conceal from you that they think his condition very serious. 
In short they think an operation is the only chance. But it will be 
not for a fortnight yet, as they want to build up his strength. And 
now some business — ■ — 

{She pauses in the reading and. gulps down a lump in her throat. The 
others also show their grief. Presently she goes on.) 

Paul. Business ? 

Olivia. — some business. Enclosed is your father's cheque 
for $2,895. Ask Paul to send it at once (that's underlined) — at once, 
to John R Charles, Washington agent of the New York Life Insur- 
ance Company. Your father hasn't the address, but you will find 
it in the top drawer of his desk in the library Don't fail in tjiis — 
because if things should — because if things should — if things should 
go wrong, the insurance money would at least keep us all together 
for a little time to come. And now, my dears, don't worry too m.uch. 
We are all in God's hands. Your father suffers little pain. He 
sends his love to all of you, and so do I. I will send you a cable when 
the time comes. God bless and keep you all, my dears. — Mother." 

{A pause folloivs the reading of the letter, ivhile the Utile group 
struggle dumbly vjith their sorrow.) 

Paul, Let me see it. 

(Olivia hands him tlw letter and the cheque, then she rises and moves 
to the window down l. The others remain. There is a glimpse of 
a little pocket handkerchief as Olivia dabs her eyes. Elizabeth 
sits in chair r.c.) 

Paul. Two thousand eight hundred and ninety-five dollars. 
Whew ! {Rises.) 

{Pause.) 

Olivia {near ivindow down l.). How much will that leave in 
the bank, Paul ? 

Paul (c). About two hundred and fifteen. 

Charles. The Yank's $5,000 will make some difference, thanks 

to Livv. 



14 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

OiiiviA {at ivindoiv down J..). Isn't it time Jack Curley was getting 
here with the servants ? 

Paul {moves to l.c, looking at his ivatch). More than time. He 
ou^ht to be here now. 

Olivia {tunving hack to the ivindoiv). Oh, here's somebody in a 
Ford. 

(Paul crosses to the %vindo>jj.) 

Why, it's Kandy Weeks. Let hiin in, Charlie. {Crosses c.) No 
servants, left, you know. 

(Charles goes out, leaving door open.) 

Wonder what Randy wants. 

Elizabeth {putting her chair hack l.c, significmUhj, looking at 
Olivia). Reckon I could guess without trying more than once. 

Olivia {smiling). Oh you, hush now. 

Elizabeth {teasing). Going to take him, Livy ! 

Olivia. Nonsense ! 

Elizabeth. Well, why don't you take him or leave him ? 

Paul (comes behind table hetweentheyn. Stands at l.c.) Don't ask 
silly questions, Bess. Why does a fisherman use a rod and reel 
and an almost invisible line when a poacher can yank 'em out with a 
net. Because it's more fun. 

Elizabeth. Humph ! Not for the HsIl {Crosses to front of 
table B.C.) 

Olivia. Oh yes, but that's what he gets for being a fish ! 

(Paul moves up stage a little. Olivia crosses to l.) 

Weeks {speaking outside). Yq», I know, Charley, but I just 
came up from there. 

{Enter ivith Charles. Weeks is a nice hiU common-place young 
Virginian of 30 gears or thereabouts. Paul goes up to greet Weeks, 
then comes l.) 

(Charlie goes r. of Weeks a,l c.) 

Elizabeth. Hello, Randy ! 

(Elizabeth by chair l. of table, r.) 

Weeks. Hello, Bess. 

Olivia. The birds are just flitting, you see. 

Weeks. Yes, I'm glad I caught yon in time. 

Olivia. Why, what's the matter ? 

Weeks. You see I'm afraid I've bad nev/s for you. I was 
down at the station and only two people got off the train -the 
conductor — ^and a darkey with one leg. 

All. Well, what on earth — etc. {Ad lib.) 



C.OME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 15 

(Elizabeth sits l. of table.) 

(Charlik a step fonvard.) 

Weeks. And now I just got a tclograni (produces telegram) from 
Washington Registry Olfict\ 

(Elizabeth pushes Charles and takes his place.) 

Olivia. Those servants not coming ? (Standing l. of l. tahle.) 
Weeks. No- seems they changed their minds at the last 
moment. 

Paul (down hy Weeks). But why ? Why ? 

(Charles goes i\. to mantel.) 

Weeks. Didn't say. Too far from the city, porha^js. 
. Paul. But fchis is terrible — heaving us all in the lurch at the last 
minute. 

Weeks. Yes, I know it i,s. 

Olivia. Look liere. Randy. This is a mighty serious thing for 
us. This Mr. Crane, or whatever his name is, is arriving almost any 
minute, isn't he ? 

Weeks. Yes — he's coming in his m.otor. 

Charles (at mantel r.). And not a servant in the house. 

Elizabeth. Good thing too. Only one thing to do. Get our 
blessed old darkies back. 

Olivia. Bess, you know that's no good. (Sits chair l. of table 

L.C.) 

Weeks. Livy's right. Mr. Crane '.vas very particular about 
that. A full staff of jArhite servants and no darkeys around the 
place — -It's in the lease too. 

Paul (comes to Weeks). But it's not our fault. Don't you think 
that, under the circumstances, he ? 

Weeks. No, old boy, I don't. The matter of the servants was 
the only thing he was particular about, but he made it quite clear 
that if his wishes in that line were not respected he would not spend 
a night in the place. Of course, I daresay that within a few days we 
could round up another bunch. Meantime 

Elizabeth, (wouldn't you telegraph him not to come for a week ? 

Weeks. Good Lord ! No, v/hy, he's on his way here now — 
and he's asked two or three guests. (Moves to hack of table R.) 

Paul. Well, I reckon it's all olf then. (Crosses to hack of table 
L.C.) Anyhow, we've done our best. (Goes to loindoiv.) 

Charles (crosses to fireplace). $5,000 gone up the flue. Phew \ 

(Elizabeth comes to r. of table r.c.) 

Weeks (back of table r.) I'm mighty sorry. It's a dirty trick, 
and so I telegraphed 'em. 

Charles. Much good that does. We're $5,000 out and all we 



16 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

get is the privilege of sassing 'em. And we can't say what we think 
over the wire, anyhow. 

Olivia {rises, crosses to l. of Weeks c.) Look here, Randy, you 
know what a facer this is. 

(Elizabeth rises and goes to Charlie at tnantel.) 

You don't suppose we'd have consented to rent the old place if we 
hadn't been pretty near rock bottom, do you ? 

Weeks. You don't have to tell me. I reckon I know. 

Olivia. You see, poor old dad's over there fighting for his 
life, that's all he can do — and the rest of us are pretty close to the 
wall. This $5,000 would have kept us going quite a while. 

(Olivia goes up c. Sees Mandy's apron, pichs it up and holes at it.) 

Weeks (k.c). Don't I know it ? That's why I boosted the 
price up on him till I felt like a highway-robber. Oh ! I know 
a house agent is supposed to have a hide like a hippopotamus ; but 
$5,000 for six weeks — {Gives a low whistle) — I could be arrested for 
that ! {Comes to front of table l.) 

Paul {at l. gloomily). Well, you needn't worry. You're safe 
now. 

Weeks. I'm horribly sorry, really I am. 

Paul. Thanks, Randy, thanks — yon did your best for us. 

{Short pause.) 

Olivia {coming down a little with apron in hand.) Look here, 
Randy, there w^erc four of those servants, weren't there ? 

(Elizabeth comes front of table k.) 

Weeks. Yes, four. 

Olivia. What were they ? (Charlie comes down r.) 
Weeks {front of table l.) Why, a butler, an upstairs girl and a sort 
of general boy for the boots and errands— and a cook. 

Olivia {tucks apron on). Well, what do you all want for dinner ? 

{All, except Olivia, laugh heartily.) ' 

Paul {comes above table to l. (/ h/i). Olivia, is this a time for 
fooling ? 

Olivia. Does I look like the cook or doesn't 1 ? 

Paul. Livy-- -j f^^foUn 

HiLizABETH. i^ or goodness sake ! ■ foqether.) 

Charles. But surely Livy, you're not thinking of j • 

Weeks {down l.). Hold your horses ! Hold your horses I 
Livy's not fooling. She's got hold of something. 

Olivia. Charley's the useful boy 

Charles. I'm the what ? 

Olivia {to Elizabeth). Bess is the upstairs girl. 

Elizabeth. Me ! 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 17 

Olivia. Paul's the butler ! 
Paul. I'm the butler ? 
Olivia. And I'sc the cook ! 

(Weeks, ivho lias not moiled since speaking, noiv moves uji l. and 
across back to mantelpiece.) 

Paul. Nonsense ! {Crosses to Olivia c.) 

Elizabeth {collapsing on chair r.). Well, did anybody hear < 

Paul {comes doivn r. of table l.c). Livy, you don't mean it. 

Charles {crosses in front of table to Olivia). Olive ! 

Olivia. Now don't call me Olive. That's not my name, and I 
don't like it. An olive is nothing but an Italian prune. 

Charles. But, Livy {Sits l. table r.) 

Olivia (c). When mother and dad went abroad they took 
$6,000 with them. 

(Olivia comes doivn, Paul comes to her below table.) 

Most of that's gone. They left $5,000 in the bank for us. When 
the life insurance policy is paid, there'll be $215 of that left, and the 
unpaid bills are a foot high. Every stick and stone and living 
creature is mortgaged to the last cent. Horses, hunters, cattle, 
sheep, everything but the dog, and we'd have mortgaged him, if 
he hadn't had the mange. There's not a soul that we can turn 
to — not a soul — -there's only ourselves, and what can we do ? 
Nothing— not a thing ! 

Paul {advancing to Olivia). But Livy 1 See here, there must 
be some other way. 

Olivia. Oh, Paul, I'm not complaining, but you see we've never 
learnt how to do anything, Bess and I particularly — just untrained 
girls, and Charlies hardl}^ out of school — 

{Excla,mation from Charles. Elizabeth rl^es and goes up to Weeks 

bg 'mantel^ 

and you, Paul, are going to do wonderful things, I know, when you've 
finished your law course, but — meantime here's a chance to make 
good. 

Charles. Make good ! {Moves r. and stands below table.) 
Elizabeth. Make what ? {Gomes below table r.) 
Paul. That's all very well, Livy, but I don't exactly picture 
myself as a domestic servant. 

Olivia. Why not ? You'd look a dream ! 

{All laugh. She slips duster through his arm.) 
(Elizabeth joins Charles front of table.) 
Bess, Charlie — Oh, Paul, can't you see, whether we like it or not, it 
solves our problem, it solves father's i)roblem, it'll be for dad, can't 
you understand — our blessed old dad, — sick among strangers, and 
you hesitate. 

B 



IS COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

(Olivia goes up c.) 
Weeks (at mantel, coming down r. after a pause). Livy, you're 

splendid, but I don't quite see how 

Paul. Same here, sis. I don't see how we can do it. 

Olivia. Why not ? 

Elizabeth. We'd sure to be found out. 

(Olivia comes down c.) 
Charles. Sure. Neighbours woukl come in — people we know 

(Elizabeth and Charlie close to the table.) 

Paul. They'd give us away. 

Elizabeth. And what would they think ? 

Weeks. Yes, Livy ! It's a splendid idea. But I'm afraid it 
wouldn't work. 

Olivia. Why not ? {Crosses to Weeks r.) None of us has ever 
seen Mr. — what's his name ? 

Weeks. Crane — ^Burton Crane. 

Olivia. He wouldn't know us from Adam. 

Paul. But the others, our neighbours — people we've grown up 
with — — 

Olivia. Now wait, dear. . . . This is Thursday, isn't it ? 

Weeks. Yes. 

Olivia. Look here. Randy. Don't you think you could get a 
new lot of white servants here from Washington by Monday ? 

Weeks. Yes, it's just possible. 

Olivia. Oh, Randy, telegraph, telephone, go yourself, offer 
them double wages, anything to get them. 

Weeks. I might, yes. ... I think it could be done. 

Olivia. Then don't you see, we'd have only three days for our 
little masquerade. It would be quite safe. Mr. Yankee Man surely 
won't be giving a party for a day or two, and the third day is Sunday. 

Weeks. And now I think of it, he said he was coming here for 
a rest. 

Olivia (coming vp c. between Elizabeth and Paul). There — • 
don't you see — Paul ! Charlie ! Bess !- -just three days of it, and 
it's all right. 
_ Elizabeth. I— I don't believe I could. {Sits front of table r.) 

Olivia. Bess — boys — not for dad '? 

{They remain silent for a moment. Olivia comes c. to r. of Paul.) 

Oh, Paul, you will ? You darling ! 

Paul. Now hold on. Sis, I haven't said yes. 
Olivia. But you will. {Turns c.) And me for the kitchen. 
And I can cook — thank Heaven ! It's the only thing I can do. 
JRandy, you go look out of the window — ■ 

(Weeks crosses to l. loiver window. Olivia crosses to l. 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEK 19 

Paul. But how does one buttle ? 

Olivia. Oli, it's quite simple. You op<Mi the door, answer 
the bell, wait on the table and wear a dress suit in the day time, so 
they can tell you're not a gentleman. 

(Charles sitting all the time.) 

Elizabeth {sitting front of table r.). Yes, but 1 dout know how- 
to be a maid. 

Olivia. All you have to do, child, is to set the rooms to rights, 
and make the beds. 

Elizabeth. Yes, but I never made a bed. 

Olivia (laughing). Oh, poor Mr. Yankee Man ! Before we've 
done with him we shall have avenged the South. 

{All laugh except Bess. Horn heard off.) 

Elizabeth. I think it's awful. 

Olivia. Quick ! he's here ! Quick, upstairs, all of you. 

(They all rush for their different belongings. Charlie uj) r. of door 
c for golf sticks. Elizabeth across h.for hag , colliding vrith Paul 
as he is crossing for his books, and all making for door up c.) 

There's a lot of old things up in the garret. Paul — dress suit, yoa 
know, Charlie — apron, something of that sort. 

{They exit up staircase exclaiming) 

Charles. I know, just watch me. 
Elizabeth. I don't know where a thing is. 

{Horn heard off, ad lib.) 

Weeks. Sh — look out, Livy ! 
Olivia. Is he here ? 

Weeks {looking from vjindoiv). Yes, just getting out cf the 
motor. 

{Both move to wirAoiv.) 

Olivia {pec ping from behind Weeks). He doesn't look so-poison- 
ous — at a distance. You'll have to let him in, Randy. Tell him 
anything you like -keep him busy a few minutes — I've got to go and 
make up the cook. {She starts to go.) 

(Crane's knock is heard.) 

Weeks. But I — I won't be mixed up in it. 
Olivia. But Randy, dear, you are mixed up in it. {At door.) 
Weeks. I tell you I won't have anything to do with it. 
Olivia. Don't be silly. Randy. You can't give us away, and 
you know it. 

Weeks. But look here, Livy, v/hat'il I tell him ? 



20 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Olivia. Tell him— oli, tell liini anything you like ! {Laughs. ) 
Poor Mr. Yankee Man ! Well, anyhow, he will have good things 
to ea^ eh ? 

(Olivia runa upstairs laugliwg.) 

{Another knock is heard.) 

(Weeks looks pleadingly upstairs, as if asking Olivia to change her 
mind, gets no response — Weeks clejectedly exits. The knocker 
is heard again. Another pause.) 

(Weeks returns ivith Craxe. Crane is a tall, good-looking, dark 
young man of 28 or 30. He carries a heavy motor coat and motor 
cap in his hand, drops them on Chesterfield l. of door c. as he follows 
Weeks into room.) 

Crane {spoken as they enter from l.). Av. fully J2,oo(l of you, Mr. 
Weeks, to be here to welcome nie in person. 

Weeks. Not at all. 

Crane. I suppose this is the drawing room (Comes doivn l.c. 
io back of table l.c, and looking about him.) 

(Weeks still at door. Crane picks up the miniature. Weeks 
closes door c.) 

Crane {crosses to chair l. of table r.c. and looks about). Eather 
nice furniture. 

Weeks. Yes, it's all very old. {Crosses to chair l, of table l.c.) 
Crane. I believe you. Quite sure it's safe to sit on ? 
Weeks. Oh, certainly. 
Crane. All right. Let's try 'it. 

{They both sit doivn.) 

1 understood you to say the place has never been rented before. 

Weeks. Never, sir. 

Crane {with a, quizzical smile, still looking about him..) It seems 
quite likely. 

Weeks {in his professional manner). I am sure the place will 
please ycu^ — it's delightful colonial flavour- — ■ — 

Crane. It's historic dilapidation 

Weeks. Its boxwood garden — its splendid lawn& — it's stables, 
."iccommodating twenty-five horses. 

Crane {smiling). Yes, I appreciate the place all right, but I do 
not consider it in good repair. However, it's only for a short time. 
Oh, by the way, how about the servants ? Now that I think of it, 
I haven't seen any servants ? {Looks at W^eeks who obviously 
baulks at entering upo7i a career of mendaciiy. Rises.) Mr. Weeks, 
you haven't forgotten the stipulation in the lease regarding ser- 
vants ? 

Weeks {rises quickly). Oh, no, sir, no, no. indeed ! 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. %i 

Crane {moves io c). Weil, what about "em — where are they ? 

Weeks {makiwj heavy weather of it). Why — ah--really — I — er 
— I don't exactly kn?)w — I 

Crane. Don't know ? 

Weeks. That is — I mean to say--I reckon they must be up- 
stairs. You sec they arrived just before you came, and I — er— 
daresay they must be up in their rooms — er — sort of getting used to 
their new — ah — circumstances. 

Crane {goes r.). Oh yes, I see. You're sure they're all right ? 

AVeeks. Oh, yes, certainly, I've — ah — known them a long time. 

Crane {at mantel — laughmg). I sec — personal friends of yours \ 

Weeks. Well, ah yes. In a way. 

Crane. jNTo reason why not — my valet's one of my best friends- 
convalescing from influenza, had a fierce time too, poor devil. So 
I couldn't bring him along. {Realizing he has said something foolish 
he laughs nervously. Moves c.) 

Weeks {moves uj) c). Oh, yes, I understand. Now, Mr. Crano, 
I think I'll have to be running along. 

Crane {stops him. c). Oh, don't go, stay and share my first- 
dinner here. 

Weeks. Really, I'm afraid I {edging toivards door.) 

Crane. Come, come — do now — like a good fellow. I'm expect- 
ing three guests — Mr. Tucker, my attorney, and his sister, Mrs. 
Faikener and her daughter — but they may not get here till after 
dinner, and I'd hate to dine alone. Besides, you engaged the cook. 
(Turns away r. then hack to Weeks) — and if she turns out to be 
rotten the least you can do is to share my sufferings. Come now, 
what do you say ? 

Weeks. Well, really, Mr. Crane, I — cr— - 

{Enter at rear Olivia, now quite made up in her character of cook. 
Her object is to retrieve her hand-bag on chair L.c. without being 
seen.) 

Crane. Ah ! you will, eh 1 
Weeks. Thank you, yes. 

Crane. Fine — then that's settled — and now {Turns and 

sees Olivia fust as she has almost escaped tvith the hand-bag.) Hello ! 

(She slops.) 

Who's this ? (Up a little.) Who are you ? 

Olivia {turning and speaking iviih a marked brogue). Faith, Tm 
the cook. 

Crane {opening his eyes at her beauty). Good Lord, are you 
indeed ? 

Olivia. Yes, your honour. 

Crane. And what are you doing in Jiere ? 

Olivia. Faith then, I was just after comin" to get me luggage. 



22 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Crane. Luggage ? 

(Weeks tvaves to her that uhiliuls are showing, She turns hag. Crane 

watches Bus.) 

Olivia. I was aftlier leaviiv it in here before your honour arrived. 

{She glances at the hag, sees the initials '' O.D.'" are fainfully sus- 
picious, and instanily turns the hag so as to hide them.) 

Crane. OIs, I see. All right. 

Olivia. Thank ye, sor. {Going.) 

Crane {ohvioush; smitten and wishing to see more of her- -moving 
up stage a Utile). Oh, cook ! Arc you a good cook ? 

Olivia [turns in doorway). Sure, and I never heard anyone yet 
complain about me cookin'. 

Crane. What are your specialities ? 

Olivia (pretending not to understand). Me what, sor ? 

Crane. Excuse me, I mean what do you do best ? 

Olivia. Faith, then, 'tis all one to me, sor, so long as it"s vittles. 
'Tis meself can take the sole on your honour's shoe and turn it out 
so's it'll melt in your honour's mouth. 

Crane {laughing). Heavens ! I hope you won't do anything 
like that. 

Olivia. Sure, I didn't say I w^ould, sor. I said I could. And 
full well it is Misther Weeks himself is afther knowin' I could, if 'tis 
the simple trut' he'd be speakin'. 

Crane. How about it, Mr. Weeks ? 

W^eeks {somewhat sulkily). She can cook. 

Olivia {apparently nettled hy this grudging testimonial). Ha ! 
Cook is it ? Cook, indeed ! Shure I can cook ; if anybody's after 
savin' I can't cook — it's a liar I'd be calling- 

Crane {interrupting). Well, that's all, I think. 

Olivia. Thank you, sor. {Going, turning to him) And is 
there any little thing your honour'd be likin' for dinner the day ? 

Crane. Why, yes, you might find a whisk-broom, stew it up 
so I'll think it is a terrapin a la Baltimore '? 

Olivia. Faith, then I cud do that aisy if I had only the whisk- 
broom — but I'm that strange in the house yet I don't knoAV where 
anything is. Thank you, thank yoa. 

{She hesitates, and then goes out. The door still open, she moves 
towards l., then turns and goes off to R.) 

Crane. Well, I'm darned ! Is that the cook ? Call her a cook ? 
Why she's a Dresden china shepherdess^ — she's a figure oii' a Grecian 
urn. I say. Weeks, couldn't we dine in the kitchen ? 

Weeks. Sir ! 

Quick Curtain. 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 2% 



SCENE II. 

(Curtain falls to indicate the passage of four hours. Demi-tasse ser- 
vice for two persons, and spirit lamp on silver tray on table r.c. 
When Curtain rises, the time is after dinner, Mrs. Falkener and 
her daughter Cora. Mrs. Falkener is drinJdng her after-dinner 
coffee. They are both in evening gowns. Mrs. Falkener is a 
stout old warrior of 50 odd years ivith a narrow mind of her own, 
and no objection to speaking it. Her daughter is a handsome gift 
of 25 to 26, a big, strong, healthy creature of the Amazonic type, 
straightforward and likeable and rather clever. 

Mrs. Falkener (seated armchair r.c. ds curtain rises — with, demir- 
tasse cup in hand). Now Cora, there's sense in wliat I sayk,. You 
can't deny it. 

Cora (seated r. of table l. reading '' Vog^ie "). No, motlier, I'm 
not denying it. 

Mrs. Falkener. Burton Crane's a very fine fellow, isn't he ? 

Cora. Of course — of course 

Mrs. Falkener. And if I do say it, you're a very pretty girl, 
aren't you ? 

Cora (protesting). Well, really, mother 

Mrs. Falkener. Oh, piffle ! Triple pilile ! Modesty's all very 
well, but not when practised to excess ! Crane's a fine fellow. 
' You're a pretty girl. I see no obstacle whatever to your happiness. 
Do you ? 

Cora. Hush, mother, they'll hear you. {Glances apprehensively 
at the door.) 

Mrs. Falkener. Nonsense ! This isn't a New York flat. 
Besides, as I was saying, it's time you were settled. I must say 
your marriage will be a great relief to me. 

Cora. Oh, mother ! 

Mrs. Falkener. It was all well enough when you were a child, 
but the income your poor father left me was never sufficient for two 
grown women brought up to subsist exclusively upon necessary 
luxuries and luxurious necessities. Better have a little talk with 
your Uncle Solon about the state of our bank account. If you are 
the sensible girl I take you for, it will accelerate your progress to the 
altar. (Drinks coffee.) 

Cora. But mother, you speak as if all J Iiad to do was to give 
Burton a chance to propose. He's had plenty of chances. 

Mrs. Falkener. A j^roposal is never a matter of chance. It s a 
matter of calculation. He needs more than a chance. He needs a 
push. Vv^ell, that ought to come easy ; now don't look shocked, 
he comes of good stock, he's not difficult to look at . . . and if he 
is as rich as mud, why three rousing cheers ! So, co-operate my dear, 
co-operate, sympathetically 



24 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Cora (sighs). Very well, mother. {Rises, lays ■magazine on tahh 
and goes to front of table.) 

Mrs. Falkener (suspiciously). Cora ! 
Cora. Yes, mother ! 
Mrs. Falkener. Come here. 

Cora. Yes, mother. (She does so — crosses helow table l.c. to c. 
and stands.) 

Mrs. Falkener. Don't tell me you arc still allowing yourself to 
think of that — that person. 

Cora, What person, mother ? 

Mrs. Falkener. You know very well v, hom I mean — -Tom Lef- 
ferts, of course. 

Cora. Why, mother ! 

Mrs. Falkener. Once and for all I won't have it. The man's a 
trifler and, what's worse, a pauper ; you can't contradict me. 

Cora. No, mother, I'm not contradicting you. (Turns and 
comes L.) 

Mrs. Falkener. Calls himself a poet ! 

Cora. Oh no, mother, it's other people who call him that. 

Mrs. Falkener. Well, has he ever denied it ? When an honest 
man's called a thief he denies it, doesn't he '? 

Cora. Must we go over all that again ? (Front of table.) 

Mrs. Falkener. Not a dollar to his name ! However, I merely 
wish it to be understood once and for all that I won't have it. 

Cora (at ivindow). Very well, mother. 

Mrs. Falkener. Look here, Cora ! It strikes me that you're 
extraordinarily submissive all at once. You haven't been seeing 
that man ? 

Cora (comes to back of I able l.). Why, of course not, mother, how 
can you ? 

(Tucker and Weeks enter. As they enter, Cora goes up and joins 
Weeks at back of table l.c. Weeks is dressed as we saw him before. 
Tucker is in emniyuj dress, Tucker is a middle-aged lawyer, 
cautious, crafty and self-importantly dignified. They are both 
smoking.) 

Tucker (coming to l. of Mrs. Falkener.). My dear, do you mind 
if we finish our cigars in here ? 

Mrs. Falkener. Of course not. To t.dl you the truth, I'm 
dying for a cigarette myself. 

Tucker. Of course, of course. (He gives her a cigarette, then 
offers his case to Cora.) Cora, my dear ? 

Cora. No, thanks, (r. of Weeks.) 

Mrs. Falkener. Oh. take one, Cora. "Nowadays not smoking 
makes a woman look so conspicuous. 

Cora. No thanks. 



COME OUT OF THE 'KITCHEN. 25 

(Tucker at had of iahle r. holds spirit lamp while Mrs. Falkener 
lights cigarette.) 

Tucker (stands r. of Mrs. Falkener, after -placing spirit lamp 
hack on traij). What a fine old room this is ! 

(Cora takes up miniature.) 

Mrs. Falkener. Oh, yes — it lias its atmosphere 

Cora. Oh, look, mother ! How lovely ! Look, Uncle Solon. 

(Grosses to Mrs. Falkener, shows it to her.) 

Mrs. Falkener. Ah, yes, to be sure. 

Tucker. Ail little frills 

Weeks (down l.). It's the grandmother of these people here. 

Tucker. Is that so '? 

Cora (doivn c). What delightful clothes ! 

Mrs. Falkener. Ah — yes — delightful. (Rises.) Glad v/e don't 
kave to wear, them, though I did once — at a costume ball. I looked 
a sight. (Moves to r. and stands by mantel.) 

(Tucker goes up r.) 
Weeks and Cora (together). Oh, no, no ! 

(Cora tal^es the miniature hack to its place on the little table, and she 
sits in chair l. of the table l.c.) 

(Enter Burton Crane.) 

Crane. Well, Mrs. Falkener. our cook can cook, can't she ? 

(Crosses to r.c, lights his cigarclic iviih spirit lamp on table r.c.) 

Mrs. Falkener. I'm afraid she's too good to last. 

(Weeks at hack of table l.c.) 

Cora. It was a good dinner, wasn't it, Uncle Solon I 

Tucker (from hack of chair r.c. moves to c. of stage). Well, it's a 

little early to decide. My experience is that you can tell more about 

a dinner two hours after you've eaten it. 

Crane (standing hack of table r.). Once a lawyer, always cautious. 

(All laugh.) 

Tucker (at c). Not at all. My contention is that to assume 
that a dinner 'is a good dinner merely because it has an agreeable 
taste is leaping to a conclusion which has not as yet a sufficient 
foundation in known facts. 

Cora. You're asking a good deal of a cook, Uncle. 

(Mrs. Falkener /?7c^'^ ashes from cigarette.) 
Crane. I should say so. 



26 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

{Crosses to Tucker at c. who goes up stage, looking at portrait r. of 
door — all laugh.) 

Mrs. Falkener {moving doivn stage r. again). The trouble witli 
my brother is that he's a lawyer first and a gourmet afterwards. 
Solon regards his entire alimentary canal as a legal system. 

(Tucker turns round, coming down a step.) 

By the way — {she sits again armchair l. of table r.c.) My dear 
Burton, you were good enough to say you wished me to supervise 
your domestic menage. 

(Tucker stands hack of table r.c.) 

Craxe (c). Did I ? 

Mrs. Falkener. Then the sooner we begin the better. Will you 
kindly ring ? 

Crane. Oh, certainly. {Crosses front of table to hell cord beloiv 
fireplace and, pulls it once.) 

{No sound heard off stage.) 

But why ? 

Mrs. Falkener. I wish to inspect the staff, at once. 

Crane {stands in front of the mantel smoking cigarette). Oh, but 
do you think that's necessary, just now ? 

Mrs. Falkener. I think it desirable. 

Cora {seated l.c). Oh, mother, can't it wait till morning ? 

Tucker {moving towards c. a step or two). The sooner the better, 
I should say. Let 'im know you're not to be trifled with. {Turn- 
ing to Crane) They're probably a pack of slackers. 

Weeks {back of table l.c. indignantly). Mr. Tucker ! I assure 
you 

Tucker {looking Weeks over superciliouslg). Oh yes, of course, 
Mr. Weeks, you picked 'em out, didn't you ? Still, just as well to 
give 'em to understand you've an eye on them. {Goes to back of 
table R.c.) 

(Enter Smithfield— /orwicr/^ Paul. He is in the conventional butler s 
garb, with the exception of a pair of patent leather boots. His 
hair is parted in the middle clear to the hack of his neck, and is 
brushed forward from his ears. He gives the best imitation of an 
ultra British butler that he can muster.) 

Smithfield {leaves door open). I think you rang, sir ? 

Crane. Oh^ — Mrs. Falkener- 

Mrs. Falkener. Come here, my man. Wliat is your name ? 
Smithfield {coming c). Smithfield, milady. 
Mrs. Falkener. Ah, yes, of course. All 1 could think of was 
Jones. 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 27 

Smithfield. Yes, milady. 

Mrs. Falkener. Ask your fellow servants to come to the draw- 
ing-room at once. 

Smithfield. Very good, milady. {Turns to go.) 

Mrs. Falkener. And don't call me " niilmly.'' I lay no claim 
whatever to that title. 

Smithfield {coming down to l. of Mrs. Falkener). Yes, milady 
— er — I beg pardon — but having served the nobility for a number 
of years — perhaps madame will understand. 

(Mrs. Falkener looks extremely flattered, others smile.) 

Mrs. Falkener {very sweetly). Yes- — yes- -of course — run along., 
(After Smithfield turns.) Oh, Smithfield! Oh- no — I think 
that's all. 

Smithfield. Thank you, milady — damn- (Turns up c. to 

door.) 

Mrs. Falkener. Eh, what ? 

Smithfield (conies down to her again). Madame. 

(He goes up c. Makes grimace at Weeks — goes out majestically 
— closing door after him as he goes.) 

Mrs. Falkener. Really, the man has an excellent manner. 
Where did you say you got these servants, Mr. Wi;eks ? 

Weeks {back of table — not having thought of such an inquiry, is 
hadly stumped by it, but he does the best he can). Why — er — from the 
Billington's. The Crosslet-Billingtons, of whom no doubt you have 
heard. 

Mrs. Falkener. No^ — never- — never in my life. Do you know 
them. Burton ? 

Crane. Never heard of 'em. Do you know them well ? 

Weeks. Er — as well as anybody, I think. One of our old 
Southern families — very nice people. 

Mrs. Falkener. And how did the Bissley-Crosslingtons 

Weeks. Excuse me, Crosslet-Billingtons— — 

Mrs. Falkener. Oh, I'm sorry, Crosslet-Billingtons come to 
part with theae priceless gems ? 

Weeks. The — the family is now abroad, but I assure you I 
had much difficulty to arrange it. Indeed, it was not until almost 
the last moment. However, I sincerely hope it will all turnout for 
the best. 

(Smithfield returns tvith An amint a— formerly Elizabeth — and 
Brindlebury— /or?/ier?// Charles. Araminta is costumed as an 
upstairs girl, and is half frightened and half sulky. Brindlebury 
wears a red handkerchief, a green baize apron and leggings, and his 
hair is tousled. He looks like a Dickensian horse-boy. Smith- 
field comes into the room. The other two stay in doorway.) 



28 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Smithfield {at l.c, coming toivards her). I beg pardon, milady, 
Cook will be here directly. 

Mrs. Falkener. You haven't been long in this country ? 

Smithfield. No, milady 

Mrs. Falkener. It's quite obvious. Not long enou<yh to be 
corrupted, I should say. 

(Charles cannot restrain his mirth. Elizabeth calls him to order. 
Seeing Mrs. Falkener glaring, he turns laugh into a cough.) 

You understand, of course, that you are responsible for the discipline 
below stairs ? 

(Crane and Tucker are at the fireplace.) 

Smithfield. Oh, yes, milady. I beg pardon, I never 'ave any 
trouble of that sort. 

Mrs. Falkener. Burton, I think Smithfield will do. 
Crane. Very glad to hear it. 

(Smithfield steps up stage to r. of door.) 

Mrs. Falkener. Let that young woman come here. 

(Paul waves her down.) 

(Araminta steps for ward, comes down helotv Mrs. Falkener, Charles 
gives her a slight push, ivhich she resents.) 

What is your name ? 

Araminta {glancing first at Weeks. In a tone of deep annogance). 
Araminta ! 

{The name jolts Weeks and Smithfield severely, Charles turns 
his bach and laughs quietly up c.) 

Mrs. Falkener. Araminta ! What a name ! 

Crane. What's the matter with it ? 

Mrs. Falkener. Might as well be Gwendolyn. Young woman, 
some sensible person should have restrained your silly parents. 
My daughter and myself are to be called at eight — after you have 
drawn our baths. Breakfast in our rooms a half hour later. 

(Araminta, ahovA to go up, stops as Mrs. Falkener continues.) 

And see here, my girl, you keep your hands of! my silk stockings — • 
you understand. 

(Elizabeth goes up. Charles is laughing — Paul calls him to order.) 

I don't know if you're aware of it, Burton, but the average housemaid 
has a perfect passion for silk stockings, she simply can't resist 'em. 
{Contemptuously.) And now let that boy come here. 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 29 

(Charles not recognizing himself as ''hog'' takes no notice.) 

(Weeks and Paul draw his attention to the fact that Mns. Falkener 
is addressing him.) 

Brindlebury {suddenly waking up). Yes ma'am, certainly 
ma'am. 

{He apjjroaches for insj^ection. Paul comes down on his l.) 

Mrs. Falkener {pompously). What is your name ? 

Brindlebury. I ma'am, am the useful boy, as they say at "ome. 

Smithfield. You'll find him hexcellent with the boots, milady. 

Brindlebury {gaily). Boots ! Ah — boots — ma'am— to me — ■ 
pertickerly a ridin' boot now^ — {Whistles and waves duster.) 

Mrs. Falkener {checldng his enthusiasm). Boy ! Ansiver when 
you're spoken to. What is your name ? 

Brindlebury {looks at Weeks /or help, but gets none). My name 
ma'am — my name is- — B-r-i-n-d-l-e-b-u-r-y. 

{Everyone is amused.) 

Mrs. Falkener. Brindlebury ! 

Brindlebury. Pronounced Brinby, ma'am — the old Sussex 
name, ma'am, with which I 'ave no doubt you, as a student of his- 
tory 

Mrs. Falkener {with deep disapprovaJ). Burton, you'll have 
trouble with that boy. 

Crane {looking at the hoy and exchanging a smile of involuntary 
sympathy). Oh, I think I'll find him all right. 

Mrs. Falkener. Brinby ! It's a preposterous name ! 1 think 
I shall call you just " boy." 

Brindlebury {starts to go). Thank you, ma'am. 

Mrs. Falkener. And boy ■ 

(Brindlebury comes hack.) 

As for the boots — — 

Brindlebury. Yes, ma'am. 

Mrs. Falkener. Take care you don't remove the trees from 
mine. I'll have no hands inside my boots but my own — or feet 
either. That will do. 

Brindlebury. Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am. 

(Brindlebury exits laughing with Araminta.) 

Mrs. Falkener {waves him away). And now, Smithfield, send 
up the cook at once. 

Smithfield {ivalks majesiically up c. to l. of door). I beg pardon, 
ma'am. Here is cook. 

(Olivia comes in, her kitchen garh has in no way diminished her charm. 
Quite the contrary in fact. Smithfield exits after Olivia is well 



30 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

on — closing the door after him,. Tucker is hnmensely interested 
and advances a few steps towards Jane Ellen.) 

Mrs. Falkener {sitting up convulsiixly and levelling a lorgnette 
at her). You are the cook ! 

Olivia {in her best brogue). Faith then I am, ma'am ! 
Mrs. Falkener (staring at her). Bless my soul ! 

(Jane looks at Crane ayid drops her eyes. Weeks is clearhj nervous.) 

And what is your name ? 

(Olivia hesitates.) 

I say what is your name ? 

Olivia. \ , . , ^ ,, > (Jane ! 

Weeks. /(«'"»«« %«'M lEHcn ! 

Mrs. Falkener (coldly). There seenu? to be a slight difference of 
opinion. 

Olivia {in a dove-like voice). Me name is Jane Ellen, ma'am. 

Mrs. Falkkner. Well, Jane Ellen, I suppose you have refer- 
ences ? 

Weeks {hastily interposing). Oh, the very best, I assure you. 

Mrs. Falkener {not relishing the inter ruption). Mr. Weeks, if 
you please 

Weeks. From the Crosslet-Biliingtons, Mrs. Falkener, but 
unfortunately I have left them at my office. To-morrow, if you 
wish. 

Olivia {taking a paper from her apron pocket mid timidly handing 
it towards Mrs. Falkener). Here's me character, ma"ani. 

(Tucker takes it from Olivia and gazes at her. Mrs. Falkener 
snatches letter as he holds it oat.) 

Mrs. Falkener {holding out at ami s length and reading it). " To 
whom it may concern. This is to certify that I recommend the 
bearer, Jane McSorley, as a reliable girl and a competent cook. I 
have known her since her birth. She is leaving; me for reasons of 
her own, but she is the best cook I have ever employed. Olivia 
Daingerfield." Ahem ! k very flattering testimonial, iiest pas 'i 
And who is Olivia Daingerfield ? Mrs. Daingerfield, I suppose ? 
{Hands reference back to Tucker, who ha/mh it to Olivia.) 

Weeks. Er — no — no. Colonel and Mrs. Daingerfield are in Europe, 
I believe. 

Mrs. Falkener. Your friends travel a good deal, don't they 'I 

Weeks. Miss Olivia Daingerfield is one of the daughters. 

Mrs. Falkener. Oh ! {To Olivia). And may I ask what were 
these '' reasons of your own," my girl ? 

'Olivia. Excuse me, ma'am. 

Mrs. Falkener. Why did you leave Miss Daingerfield's service ^ 

Olivia. Must I be afther tellin' ye that, ma'am ? 



COME OUT OF THP: KITCHEN. 31 

Mrs. Falkener. I think so. 

Oltvia. Well, then, I couldn't stand the woman any longer. I 
was sick and tired of seein' her around the place. 

Mrs. Falkener. Indeed! {To Olivia.) My girl, let me see 
your hands. 

(Olivia approaches, hesitates a secoiul and holds out her hands, front 
and back, for inspection. Mrs. Falkener stares at them.) 

Humpli ! Manicured ! 80 you couldn't stand seeing her aroimd 
any longer, eh ? 

Olivia. Indade ma'am, I could not tlien. Sure, she was wan 
av them meddlin' females always pokin' her nose into things was 
none av her business. 

(Mrs. Falkexer winces slighth/. Crane and Tucker enjoy the dig.) 

Mrs. Falkener. Ahem ! Really ! And you went from her to 
the Crosslet-Billingtons ? 

Olivia. The who — ma'am ? 

Mrs. Falkener. That was the name, wasn't it, Mr. Weeks ? 

Weeks (behind table l. to Olivia. Hastily). Yes, yes, from the 
Daingerfields to the Crosslet-Billingtons. Didn't you, Jane Ellen ? 

Olivia. Maybe I did, sor. I could never be gettin' that quare 
name straight in me head. 

Mrs. Falkener (bluntly). My girl, have you ever been married ? 

Olivia. God forbid, ma'am ! 

Mrs. Falkener (not heediny her). Or engaged ? 

Olivia. Faith, ma'am, has that same anything to do with me 
cookin' ? 

Mrs. Falkener. Jtxne Ellen, don't be impertinent ! 

Olivia. No ma'am. 'Tis a sin we shall all pray for strengt^h to 
avoid. 

(Mrs. Falkener starts, Craxe and Tucker smile.) 

Mrs. Falken^^r {annoyed). Jane Ellen, will you answer m.y ques- 
tion ? Have yon ever been engaged ? 

Weeks. If you'll excuse me, Mrs, Falkener, for saying so, I 
really 

Mrs. Falkener. If you please, Mr. Weeks, I'm just trying to 



Olivia {short pause). Well ma'am, 'tis not that I've anything to 
conceal. I was engaged wanst — Pat Conlon his name was — -as fine 
a broth av a boy as iver came out av Ireland. We was to have mar- 
ried lasht June, on'y d'ye see, there was a quarrel an' I— I — jusht 
can't bear to think av it — every time me mind gets runnin' on it, 
it just seems like {Going a few steps up l.) 



32 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

{She 'pulls out a handkerchief and begins to sob qvAetly. Weeks and 
Tucker gather round her to comfort her.) 

(Cora rises.) 

Crane. 



Weeks. 
Tucker. 



{together 



rOh, Jane Ellen, please, please don't cry. 

Nobody wants to hurt you. 
Now Jane Ellen, please I {Comes up l. of 
Olivia.) 

Look here, my girl, please don't do that ! 
. {Comes to front of Olia^a.) 

(Olivia murmurs inarticulaiely through her sobs.) 

Mrs. Falkener {rises). Weil, really, I think I've had enough 
of this. 

Crane {down r. rather stiffly). If you'll excuse me, my dear 
Mrs. Falkener, I think — perhaps we all have — for the present. 

Mrs. Falkener {angry). Oh well — - — 

(Tucker opens door for her c.) 

(Crane moves up r. behind table, a little cross.) 

Very well, then, I'll say good-'i'igbt. Come, Cora. 

{She goes out in high dudgeon.) 

Cora {coming up c). Oh, Jane Ellen, you mustn't cry. Mother 
didn't mean to hurt you. {Going.) She shouldn't have said that. 

{Now on R. side of Olivia pals her on shoulder. A fresh burst of 
sobbing comes from the handkerchief.) 

Oh, well, I suppose I'd better go too. Good-night. 

(Cora goes out.) 

Tucker {ivho has hurried, back from opening door and has been 
dying for a chance to comfort Jane Ellen, l. o/ Jane). I'm quite 
sure my sister did not mean to be unkind. There nov/ — there — • 
there ! {Pats her shoulder.) 

(Mrs. Falkener reappears at door, saying iihperatively.) 

Mrs. Falkener. Solon ! 
Tucker. Yes, my dear. 

(Mrs. Falkener exits. Tucker reluctantly goes out. Weeks 
goes up to L. of Olivia, _2;a'i6.?e5 to speak, Crane cofnes up to him 
to shake hands.) 

Crane. Good-night ! 

(Weeks exits.) 

[After a pause, outside door l. .'^lams.) 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEX. 33 

Crane. Now see here, Jane Ellen, please don't cry. Please — ■ 
just just as a favour to me. Mrs. Falkener has gone. 

Jane. Gone has she "? {Suddenly shoiving a face quite innocent 
of tears, rather roguish in fact.) Faith, I'm feelin' better already. 

Crane. Jane ! What in the name- 

Jane. Sure then, I suppose herself ud a been askin' me was me 
hair all me own next — or was me gran'father a dhrinkin' man — an' 
what was me favourite flower ? 

Crane. Well, God bless my soul ? 

Jane. Faith, an' I hope he will, sor. Was there anything else 
sor ? 

Crane. No-o ! No-o ! {She turns wp c.) Just one thing, Jane 
Ellen. 

(She stops and returns doivn c.) 

I should like you to feel perfectly happy here. 

Jane. Faith, sor, 'tis mesilf that's hopin' to. 

Crane. So if there's anything I can do to — to make you feel 
- — er — happier- — -I want you to promise you'll let me know. 

Jane. Anything, sir ? 

Crane. Yes, anything at all — anything ! 

Jane {starts up c.) Yes, sir. {Ujj to door and opens it.) 

Crane. I mean '■ 

(Jane stops, closes door and returns.) 

Don't send the butler, just come to me — you — yourself person- 
ally^ — and tell me, will you ? 

Jane. Sure an' I might. 

Crane. No, but will you ? 

Jane. Yes, sor. 

Crane. That's fine — ^now — -now — I'm sure we shall get on 
splendidly together, you and I. Shan't we ? 

Jane. Well, that's as may be sor, but — we might. 

Crane. Might ? What do you mean by that ? 

Jane. Sure an' ye niver can tell. 

Crane. Eh? 

Jane. Sure, sor, w^e must always be hopin' for the best. But 
we might, sor, we might. Thank ye, sor. {Going up to door 
exits.) 

Crane {runs up and ojjens door agaiyi). Oh, cook, cook ! 

Jane {appeari^ig on other side of door). Yis, sor ? 

Crane {with the open door hetiveen them). About breakfast — I- 
I shall want some breakfast. ... 

Jane. Yes, sor, not till the mornin', I suppose, sor ? 

Crane. No, no, — certainly —not till the morning. 

Jane. AYell — some fruit, coffee, toast an' eggs, sor % 

Crane. Yes, of course, eggs, eggs. 

c 



34 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Jane. About three minutes, sor ? 

Crane. Yes— yes— three minutes. 

Jane. An' belike a bit of bacon, sor ? 

Crane. The very thing. 

Jane. Just broiled to a crisp, sor ? 

Crane. Just as I like it. 

Jane. Yes, sor, an' ye said the eggs ten minutes. . . . 

Crane. Yes— ten minutes— yes— er— 

{She doses door suddenly and out of sight.) 

No— no — three minutes. 

{He re-opens door with her on the other side of Inoh.) 

Jane. Oh, three minutes; ye can just as aisy have tliim ten 
minutes. 'Tis the water does the bilin' — not me. Good-night to 
ye, sor. 

{Exits to r., leaving it open this time.) 

Crane {in the doorway c. looking off r. after her). Good-night, 
Jane Ellen. 

Jane {outside r.). Good-^ight, and the top of the morning to ye. 

Crane {turns facing audience with a qjleased laugh). Well, God 
bless my soul ! 

Quick Curtain. 



ACT 11 

Scene. — The Kitchen. 

Time. — Tivo days later, in the aflciiwon. 

The Kitchen is a elieeri) apartment with one ivindoiv r.c. looking into 
the garden. There is a door c. into the garden, which remains open, 
throughout the Act. On the R. are siving doors, then the door of a 
kitchen cupboard ; then, doivn r., a sink. A jingle-hell indicator 
with numbers from 1 io 6 hangs over tJiie swing doors. When the 
door of the kitchen cupboard is opened, one sees brooms, mops, etc., 
and the shelves full of tinned things. At the sink is a hand pump 
and drainage to carry away water. Up stage l. is a door ivhich opens 
on to a passage which, in turn, leads to the larder. Belotv it is a 
kitchen range, upon which stand several saucepans and kettles with 
steam going in some of them. Down l. is the kitchen back door, 
and upon it hangs a roller towel. Betiveen the c. door and the l. 
corner of the kitchen is a dresser covered with copper utensils, baking 
pans, etc. Down l.c. is a big kitchen table. Small cane-bottomed 
chair between the dresser and the jwt rack. Big cane-bottomed cho/ir 
to R. of table. Between the door and the window a small cane- 
bottomed chair and a boot box, containing brushes, rags, etc. There 
is a shelf oner the fireplace for salt, etc. The curtain rises on a- 
few strains of '' Liza Jane.'^ 

Discovered, Brin-dlebury washing dishes at the sink. He 
throws out water fro in dish pan, pumps it full again from the hand 
pump and starts vmshing more dishes. Paul at rise is drying 
dish 'with dish towel, ivhich he places on the draining board of the 
sink. He then takes tray — which is leaning against upper end of 
sink — 2nd holds tt while Brixdlebury places the 'washed and dried 
dishes on it. Jane Ellen is standing l. of table slicing sweet- 
potatoes into baking pan. When tray is full Paul starts to go, hut 
is stopped by BrilVdlebury. 

BrindlebuR'Y. W.iit a niiniit.:, l\ir. Butler, you can take one- 
more. 

(Smithfiei,[) returns, and Brindlebury places another cup — three 
in all — 97? tray with the other plates.) 

35 



36 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Smithfield. Hold on. Look lierc, I'm no juggler. Always 
room for one more is your motto. First thing you know you'll 
make me spill the lot. 

Brindlebury. Oh, run along now, and don't talk back ! 

Smithfield {going towards swing doors). Well, if we smash any 
more there Mon't be enough to go round. 

(Brindlebury drom a dish in siuJc.) 

Lord, save the pieces ! 

(Goes out through siving doors.) 

Jane (l. of taUe). Charley ! Mother's best china, you must 
be careful. 

Brindlebury. Gee, I couldn't help it ! The darn thing slipped. 
{They resume their work — pause.) Heard anything from Randy ? 

Jane {going to stove and looking at soup in the pot). No, and we 
ought to ; it's been two days already. 

Brindlebury. I recl*on he don't dare to telephone. 

Jane {back at table). I rather thought he might try and sneak 
in and see us. {Puts butter on the potatoes.) 

Brindlebury. He'd better hurry up. I'm beginning to feel 
as though I needed an imderstudy. 

Jane. You ! Oh, I'm not worried about you ! It's Bess that 
bothers inc. 

Brindlebury. Oh, Bess, she's all right. She {Drops 

another dish crashing into the sink.) 

Jane. Charley ! Well, really ! 

Brindlebury. Gee, I'm sorry ! 

Jane. I don't want you to be sorry — I want you to be careful. 
It's a good thing you don't have to earn your living washing dishes. 

Brindlebury. Is that so ? What am I doing now, I'd like to 
know ! 

Jane. You"re breaking up liousekeeping. 

{She takes demi-john of sherry. Enter Araminta through the swing 
doors, carrying three lace collars. Araiminta, evidently in a fury 
of temper, crosses to l., gets ironing board from side of dresser and 
slams it on the table. Goes to the stove for a flat iron, and takes 
a holder from upper end of mantel. Goes to the ironing board and 
begins to iron the collars. After a slight pause.) 

Hello, sweetness ! {Pause.) What's the matter, honey 1 {Pause.) 
How's the old dragon to-day ? 

Araminta {ironing viciously). I'd like to wring her neck. {Bangs 
iron down.) 

Brindlebury. Oh, naughty, naughty ! 

-Araminta {turning on him. furiously). You shut up ! 

{This startles him, and he drops another ■ plate.) 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. :j7 

I guess you'd be cross, too, it you iiad to wait on that old hen all 
day and all night. Nothing ever suits her. This is the third time 
I've ironed these collars. I hope they choke her. 

(Jane Ellen j^outs syrup on jMatoas . Smithfield re-enters ivith 
emj^ty tray, and Charley proceeds to fill it up ivitli Tiiore frcsJily 
ivashed dishes.) 

Jane. Bess, dear. 

(Smithfield jw'occer/.s- io dry plates.) 

Araminta {imitating Mrs. Falkener). My good girl this and 
my good girl that. If she's what they call a lady u]) North I'd 
like to see -what they call the other thing. (To Jane, who is grating 
a nutmeg on the potatoes.) Oh, I'm in it because you dragged me in, 
but I give you fair warning, if Randy Weeks doesn't produce those 
servants pretty quick, Fm through. I can stand about twenty- 
four hours more of that old hen and that's all. 

Smithfield {coming up a little r.c). See here, Bess, you don't 
seem to understand. 

Araminta. Oh, dry up ! All you have to do is to serve her 
meals ; how'd you like to hock her up ? 

(Charley laughs. Jane Ellen /^^fe a cup with hot ivater from kettle 
and. pours it on potatoes.) 

Jane. I know, honey. I know it's very hard, but it won't 
last long, and I daresay you are rather trying. You always forget 
the tea strainer from her breakfast-tray, or you don't remember 
to call her at eight or something — you're not very competent. 

{Goes to door and ivipes hands on towel.) 

Araminta. Competent ! Of course I'm not. Why on earth 
should I be competent ? 

Jane. No, dear, of course not. Only you see she doesn't 
know that. And I do think you might remember the tea strainer, 

Araminta. Weil, it's more trouble to me than to her. Don't 
I have to chase downstairs again and get it ? Competent ! I wish 
I had her here, I'd iron her ! {Slams the flat iron viciously on the 
table.) 

Jane. Bess, dear, I don't see how you can — when you know 
what's at stake. Why, at this very moment dear old daddy may 
be {She chokes up and stops — ^j'w^s- the roller towel to her eyes.) 

Smithfield. I say, sis, that's a towel, not a handkerchief. 

Jane {going to stove, over her shoidder to Smithfield). Oh, shut 
up. ^ 

Araminta. I know, Livy, I'm a pig ; but if I'm a pig, she s a cat. 

(Jane 'puts pan of potatoes in oven.) 



38 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Brindleeury. She's a dragon, a hen and a cat, some naenagerie ! 
(No. 4 hell rinf/s.) 

Smithfield {looking at indicator). No. 4, Bess. 

Araminta {puts doivn iron). There slie goes again — I don't 
see how that bell stands it. {Takes her collars and starts for the door.) 
If she doesn't look out, I will steal her silk stockings. {Exit Ara- 
minta angrilij.) 

(Jaxe resumes at the tahle.) 

Smithfield. She sure is a pretty nasty bit of work, and no 
mistake. 

Brindleeury. She's no worse than old Tucker. I'd like to 
poison him. 

Jane {goes up to end of table. At ironing hoard.) Yes. Things 
run in the family, don't they ? And we're all so good-natured, 
aren't we ? 

{No. 2 hell rings.) 

Your bell, Paul. {She takes tray from Smithfield.) 

Smithfield {looking at indicator and assmning Ms servant's man- 
ner). Yes, sir. You said '" .go to hell,"' sir ; certainly, sir — after 
you, sir. 

{Exit through swing doors.) 

Jane. Charley, take this tray into the butler's pantry, and 
for Heaven's sake don't drop it. 

(Charley hreaks dish in sink.) 

And please do try not to break any more. Be careful ! There's 
the door. 

(Charley stumbles, nearly droppiug the tray.) 

Now, don't juggle those^ 

(Charley exit through swing doors.) 
{Rattling of plates heard off.) 
Jane {puts iron back on stove and pids ironing-hoard hack L.c. 
Randy We-eks furtively opens the kitchen door down l. Jane, turn- 
ing, sees him). Randy! 
Weeks. Hello, Livy ! 

Jane {excitedly). Any news ? Have you got them ? Are they 
coming ? Oh, do say they are ! 
Weeks. Yes, I think so. 

Jane. Randy, you're a darling ! {She goes otef door up l for a 
fnx)?nent.) 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEJs^. 39 

Weeks (going to r. of table). But they're not coming till Tuesday. 
Jane. Tuesday — that's three days more. (Returns with chicken 
and puts it on kitchen table.) 

Weeks. Couldn't get 'em a minute sooner, but I think you're 
lucky at that. White seryants willing to come to the country are 
scarce this, season. How are things going ? 

Jane. Oh, I reckon we'll pull through if Bess doesn't explode. 
She doesn't care very much for the chaperon. (Takes baking tin 
from lower shelf of pot rack. Puts it on kitchen table.) 

Weeks (laughing). I don't blame her. Snob ! I say, Liyy, 
are you glad to see me ? 

Jane (putting chicken in baking pan). Never gladder to see any- 
body. 

Weeks. Prove it. 

Jane. All right. As a mark of my special favour I will allow 

you to 

Weeks. Yes ? 

Jane. Freeze the ice-cream. (She pulls the ice-cream freezer 
out from lower end of table.) 

Weeks (sarcastically). Livy, that's perfectly splendid of you. 
{Taking freezer.) 

Jane. Now don't grumble, go to work ! (Takes pepper and 
salt cellars from lower end. of mantelpiece and places them on table.) 
Weeks. I don't know that I'm so crazy about freezing Crane's 
ice-cream. 

{Sits chair r. of table, and takes out handkerchief to hold freezer handle.) 

Jane. And Mr. Tucker's too, don't forget him. 
Weeks (turning the crank of the freezer). Tucker ! Hm ! 
Jane (relapsing into her brogue and beginning to tease him, deliber- 
ately). Faith, an' he's me favourite. 

(W^eeks glares.) 

He's what you might call a virile, don)inating personality. (Salts 
and pepjjers the chicken. Butters chicken.) 

Weeks. Hm ! (Turns the crank angrily.) 

Jane. No, no, no, no, no. 

(He siojjs turning.) 

Don't you be turning it so fast. You'll be spoiling the dessert 
entirely, so you will. 

Weeks. Look here, do you mean to say this man Tucker comes 
into the kitchen ? 

Jane. Not yet. (Gets flour in cup from flour barrel.) 

Weeks (jumjjs up). Not yet ! 

Jane. A strong man, me dear. Shure ho looks like the husband 



40 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

on the stage with a brush of powder over the ear. {Flours the 
chichGn.) 

Weeks {leaves the freezer and. goes to Jane, ahove table). My dear 
girl, you're not going to let this man make love to you. 

Jane. Shure, it's not always aisy to prevint. (Gets cuj) of hot 
water from kettle.) 

Weeks {above l. table). You've always prevented me as often 
as you wanted to. 

Jane. Often, but not as often as that. 

Weeks. Oh, come now, drop the Irish. {A step to her.) 

Jane. Shure, I need the practice. Now then, you get along 
back to the ice-cream {Pours ivater in chicken pan.) 

{He returns to freezer.) 

Shure, if all's not well w^ith the dinner that awful old woman will 
be having us all thrown out, so she w^iil now. 

Weeks {turns freezer slowly). They say Crane is supposed to 
be engaged to her daughter. {Pause.) 

(Jane goes to oven.) 

Jane {putting chicken in oven). Faith, then, I don't envy him 
his mother-in-law. {Shuns the oven door.) 

Weeks. I say, what do you think of Crane ? 

(Jane crosses e. with dish and sherry jar.) 

{Pause, he stops freezing, and turns to her.) I say, what do you think 
of Crane ? {Leans on the corner of the table.) 

Jane {putting dishes she has just been using in the sink). Oh, 
that man's well enough. {Goes up to cupboard ivith sherry jar.) 

Weeks. You knovr you're a funny girl. Now I always thought 
{Rises.) 

Jane. Oh, freeze, freeze ! 

Weeks {sits again). You know perfectly well you can do anything 
in the world with me. {Turns the freezer jerkily.) 

(Jane puts sherry jar on shelf in cupboard.) 

Jane, Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Not that way— it ought to 
be steady and even. Here, let me show you ! {Kneels R. of him. 
by freezer, and begins to turn the crank.) See, like this — slow^— like 
this ! There, do you sec what I 

(Weeks puts handkerchief on knee.) 

{As she turns, he kisses her. She jumps up, ivith cooking spoon in 

hand.) 
Eandy Weeks, vou go home, and don't vou ever come back ! {Going 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 41 

Weeks (l.c). But. my dear— 
Jake (r.c). GfO home ! 

(Weeks drops his JimidkeTcJiiff as he rises.) 

Weeks. D'yoii mean it '? 
Jane. I do ; oh, I do ! 

(Weeks half turns to go.) 

(Tucker is strolling prist the door c. and is arrested hg their voices. 

He stops to listen — he is obviously anxious to know who the young 

man is, but cannot see him.) 

Weeks {turning to her). The^act is you're a cold, heartless flirt, 
who thinks of nothing but herself. You don't care a bit what other 
people suffer. Bess is worth ten of you. 

Jane. Go and kiss her then. 

Weeks. She wouldn't stand it, she's not that sort. 

Jane {takes a few steps towards him.furioiis). But I am ! I stand 
it, do I ? If I could I'd kill you. As it is I hate you ! 

Weeks {at bottom of table, ^idhily). It's your own fault ; you 
tempted me. 

Jane. Tempted you ! 

Weeks. Yes, and you know ic. 

Jane. How did I know you were going to be so siliy ? 

Weeks. You've always pretended to like me. 

Jane. That's just what I did, pretended. 

Weeks {turning to go, erossing to l.). You'll be L^orry for saying 
that. 

Jane. I won't ! 

Weeks. Yes, you will I 

Jane. No, I won't ! 

Weeks. You will 

Jane. I won't ! 

Weeks. You will, too. I pity the. man who marries you. 

Jane. You'd marry me to-morrow if you could. 

Weeks. I would not. 

Jane. You would. 

Weeks. I would not ! 

Jane. You would. 

Weeks. Not if you were the last woman in the world. 

Jane. Eandy Weeks, you go home ! 

Weeks. Good-bye. 

Jane. And shut the door ! 

(Weeks exits door down l. add slams the door.) 

(Jane laughs, picks up haytdkerchief that Weeks has dropped, looks 

at it, and tosses it into chair. Puts freezer under the table and^ 
crosses front of table. Tucker, hearing the door slam on Weeks'- 



42 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

exit, thin'ks of enterinfj the hltehen ; lie looks cautiously to r. and l. 
Just as he had made up his mind to enter, Olivia drops Weeks's 
handkerchief into chair, and Charley e^iters with pair of hoots. 
Tucker steps hack.) 

Charley. I forgot the old geezer's boots. 

(Tucker glares at him and exits to k., gimng him another look of dis- 
approval as he passes the ivindow. While Charley polishes hoots 
with hrush and rag, which he takes from hoot hox under ivindow, 
he ivhistles " Liza Jane." Jane Ellen goes out of door tip l., 
returning and hringing a howl of corn, a hoivl of eggs, and lastly a 
jug of milk. These she places on the kitchen table.) 

Jane. Is that all ! 

{At this moment No. 3 hell rings. Charley slams down the lid of 
hoot hox and exits polishing one hoot on the seat of his trousers. 
Jane Ellen takes syrup jar from table and crosses r. to cuphoard 
and puts it on shelf, then to range. As she crosses Tucker, after 
seeing she is alotie, comes into kitchen. Jane Ellen has heen 
singing " Liza Jane,'' hut seeing Tucker out of the cornier of her 
eye changes to " The Pretty Girl Milking her Cow.'' At the end of 
the verse she turns and smiles at Tucker.) 

Tucker. Good afternoon, Jane Ellen. 

Jane. The top av it to you, sor. (Turns from stove, small 
saucepian in haiid to l. of tahle.) 

Tucker {doivn a step). I hope I don't intrude. 

Jane. Oh, sor, I see it is an optimist ye are. {Takes up wooden 
spoon from tahle and stirs saucepan.) 

Tucker {with a superior smile). Now, what can you possibly 
know of optimists, my girl ? 

Jane. Sure, an optimist, is a man that looks after your eyes. 

Tucker {laughing). Oh, Jane Ellen. 

Jane. Sure, I've heard tell, more than wance, that an optimist 
was a man who could always deceive himself, even though everybody 
else in the world could see through him. {Brings saucepan to tahle, 
still stirring.) 

Tucker {putting his l. hand on the tahle and leaning towards her). 
Jane Ellen, I fear that you have a frivolous mind. 

Jane. Oh, sor, indade an' indade I hope not. (^4^^ she speaks 
she stops stirring, and puts the hot spoon on Tucker's hand.) 

Tucker {jum,ping vjith the paJ/n). Ouch ! 

Jane. Oh, sor, did I burn ye ? 'Tis that sorry I am, sor. {Puts 
saucepan hack on stove and, stirs sauce.) 

Tucker {very siveetly). It's nothing, it's nothing. I was going 
to say— that^ — despite a certain lamentable tendency towards frivol- 
ity which I observe in your nature, I — I — er — I — er — well, I am 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 43 

an older man than your eniploycr. (Movimj up to hack of lahle.) 

Jane. Oh yes, sor, much, much older. 

TRUCKER. Hm ! Well— er— older, at all events {Goes 

above tabic.) 

(Jane is at stove.) 

I have seen more of life, and perhaps understand more thoroughly 
the — ^er — the difficulties which beset a young and I must say a pretty 
woman. 

Jane {turning to him). Why must you say that, sor ? 

Tucker. Why, Jane Ellen, because it is the truth ! Ah, my 

dear child {Moves towards her, when she picks up the kettle 

from the stove and hands it to him.) Well, I'll try 

Jane. Would you kindly be holding that for me ? The stove 
is that crowded. 

(Tucker takes kettle, findimj it hot changes it from one hand to the 
other. Going c. Jane busies herself at stove, and Tucker anxiously 
looks out of the door, to see if anybody is likely to catch him in. that 
predicament.) 

{Turning.) Er — you were about to say, sor ? 

Tucker. Oh, yes, yes. {Going to hack of tahlc.) That — er — ■ 
if any little trouble should rise in the household, I — er — would like 
to know that you look upon me as a friend. 

g[ANE. Oh, Mr rTticker ! 

Tucker. I shall be glad to do you a good turn. 

Jane. Indade, then you can do me that same good turn right 
now. 

Tucker {beaming at her). My dear child, vou have only to name 
it. 

Jane. You can be afther turning your back on me. 

Tucker. You — ^you wish me to go ? 

Jane. Shure, the kitchen is no place for the loikes of a gintle- 
man. 

Tucker {giving look at the door through ivhich Weeks made exit). 
Did 3"ou think so ten minutes ago ? 

Jane {gives a quick look, and then turns to stove). Shure, this 
sauce is boiling over. The devil an' all's in that stove. The minute 
I turn me back, somethin' boils over. 

Tucker. My- dear Jane J]llen. 

(Jane puts saucepan into his l. hand.) 
Jane. Will you be holding that, sor ( 

(Tucker shows thai it's very hot.) 
Tucker. Ill try. 



44 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Jane (iasiing it). l"m thinking it needs a little bit more salt. 
(Takes shaker from table.) 

(Tucker, during the previous speech, realizes he is in a very undignified 
jwsition, OMd casts anxious glances towards door r. and c, Jaiste 
sprinUes salt into the pan, and ivhile Tucker turns his head to 
look at door, spills some on his shoulder.) 

(Smiles at him, which he returns flirtily.) Why, yer honour's got 
a bit of soot on yer honour's face. Hold still now while I get a rag 
and wipe it oft. Oh, Mr. Tucker, wherever have you been — sure 
there's a bit of 

(Tucker is now quite alarmed, and glances nervously up stage as he 
does this. Jane takes rag from her waist hand, smears it on stove, 
and returns to Tucker, ivijjes some black on his face.) 

Why, you don't want to be goin' round with black on one side of 
yer face, Mr. Tucker. Wliy, wherever have you been, Mr. Tucker ? 
Shure, tliere's a little bit on yer honour's chin. (Rejjeats business 
on his chin.) 

Tucker. Thank you, thank you very much, Jane Ellen. 

Jane. Don't mention it, sor. Faith, some one'd shure be askin' 
where yer honour'd been, with that face on you. 

[Cow.es to table and takes bowls.) 

Tucker {reminded by this that somebody might come in and catch 
him — turns to Jane Ellen). Yes, exactly — ^that's why if you 
wouldn't mind taking these — — 

Jane. Yes, sor, I will — but just half a minute, sor 

(xit this moment Beindlebury comes in, goes to sink, and turns.) 

Brindlebury. I say, Livy ! 

Tucker {hearing his voice, turns to face him). 

(Brindlebury collapses with laughter.) 

(crosses majestically to him). And may I ask the cause of this un- 
seemly mirth '? 

Brindlebury {leaning against the sink — convulsed ivith laughter). 
Yes sir, certainly you may ask. Mr. Crane is just coming up the 
drive in the motor. 

Tucker. I do not see the connection. {Frightened at the idea 
o/Crane catching h im, he hurries to the table. At the bottom end of table, 
he puts the kettle and saucepan on it). But perhaps I'd better go 
and meet him. {He hurries to door c.) 

Brindlebury (just as he gets outside). I think I would if I were 
you. 

(Tucker turns.) 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 45 

It vseeras to me there are altogetlicr too many men in the kitchen. 
Tucker (re-entering worn with f/reat dignitij). Boy ! 
Brindlebury {threateningly). Well ? 
Tucker (nervously). Are you speaking to me ? 

(Jane moves to r. of table. Has stnall saucepan in hand.) 

Brindlebury. Yes. (Goes up a little to Tucker — his fists 
clenched.) I just want to tell you that Jane Ellen is my sister. 

Tucker. Indeed 1 Well, Brinby, I can't confess to taking an/ 
very deep interest in your family relations. (Down c. a step.) 

Brindlebury. Apparently youVe taken enough interest in 
one of them to come to the kitchen and talk to her. And I won't 
have it. 

Jane. Brinby don't ! 

Tucker (comes doivn). How dare you talk to me like this? 

Brindlebury. You get out of this kitchen, or I'll (Threat- 
ens to strike.) 

Jane (crossing, pushes Brindlebury down r.), Brinby, what 
are you doing? 

Brindlebury (sulkily going down stage r.). I know what I'm 
doing all right. 

Jane (on r. of Tucker). Faith, sor, 'tis very ashamed I am 
an' all, but yer Honour will plaze to remember he's nothing but 
a lad. 

Tucker. He's old enough to know better. 

Brindlebury (turning on him). How about you, you old chim- 
panzee ? 

Tucker (down l.). W^hat ' 

Jane. Be quiet ! (To Tucker.) Shure sor, I hope yoii can 
see your way to forgiving him. An' him only a poor hard-working 
lad like he is, an' so sorry an' all. 

Tucker. He doesn't look very sorry. 

Brindlebury. No, an' I'm not sorry, either ! 

Tucker (turning to Jane Ellen and loalking up to door). There, 
you see ! Now I shall certainly report him to his employer. 

Jane. Now see what you've done. 

Brindlebury. I don't care, I'm glad of it. 

Jane. Glad of it. 

Brindlebury. I don't care ! D'you reckon I'm going to have 
that old chimpanzee coming in here to make love to you ? 

Jane. Oh, I suppose if Mr. Crane came in now you'd throw 
the flat irons at him. I reckon I can take care of myself. Don't 
you suppose I've ever been made love to before ? 

Brindlebury. Well, ves, I reckon you have. 

Crane (off). Hallo, Tuck. 

Brindlebury. Oh, gee ! (Runs out through swing doors.) 



46 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

(Jane Ellen runs off through door up l. Tucker re-enters. Crane 
and Cora enter after him,) 

Crane {speahinf/ in doorivay). Well — ^we've been searching tlie 
house for you. 

(Tucker moves to lower end of table, facing audience — Crane puts 
his hat on chair r. of door e. They come down c.) 

Tucker. Have you, and I've been looking for you everywhere. 

Crane. Even in the kitchen. 

Tucker (as he turns, Crane and Cora see his dirty face and begin 
to laugh). I beg your pardon^ — — 

Crane. Good Lord, Tuck, what have you got on your face ? 

TuGK^R^^^^^^^What the devil do you ineaii^^my face^l 

Cora. Oh, Uncle Solon, have you been in the coal bin ? 

Tucker (very angry). What is it, what is it, what is it ? 

Crane. Have you been kissing the stove ? 

Tucker. Really, Burton {Starts to go to Crane, but is 

stopped by Cora.) 

Cora. Why, uncle, you're all over smudges. Here, do let me 
wipe your face. {She s^nudges his face worse with handkerchief, 
which she has taken from his coat pocket.) What a mess ! Look 
at that ! 

T&eKER^. GoTod Lord ! 

Cora. There, there, that's better. 

(Tucker thinks she has iciped his face clean so regains his dignity.) 

Crane. Really, Tuck, where have you been ? 

Tucker. I really can't imagine ! (To Cora.) I'm much 
obliged to you, my dear. {Goes l., suddenly remembering Brindle- 
bury's insult speaks to Cora.) Cora, I've something to say to 
Burton that I think you'd better not hear. 

Cora. Oh ! how very interesting ! W^ell, all right, I'll go any- 
way, I promised mother I'd go for a walk. 

{She goes up to doorway.) 

Crane {moves up c. near door). Eii. Then I'll come and join 

you later, if I may 

Cora. Very well. You'll hurry up though, won't you, Burton ? 
Crane. Yes, I won't be long. 
Cora. All right. Burton. 

{She goes out and passes window.) 

Crane {coming down tovxirds c. to Tucker). Well, Tuck ? 

Tucker. I must ask you to dismiss that boy at once. 

Crane. W^ho, Brinby i 

Tucker. Yes. 

Crane. Good Lord, what for ? 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 47 

Tucker. Ho has been grossly insolent to me. 

Crane. Eealiy ? 

Tucker. In addition to which he attempted to strike me. 

Crane. Good Lord, Tuck, you don't mean it ? 

Tucker. Unfortunately, I do. 

Crane. My dear Tuck ! Well, of course, .the boy'll Jiave to go. 
But how did it happen % 

Tucker {moving a little down h. and then up to Crane). Well, 
you see I — I was in tli-B kitchen . . . and do you know that boy some- 
how^ acquired the extraordinary idea -that I had been making love 
to the cook . . . 

Crane. Absurd ! 

Tucker. Naturally. 

Crane. A man of your .ige. 

Tucker. I beg your pardon ! {He is not -pleased.) And you 
may be interested to know that he distinctly stated that the cook 
was his sister. 

Crane {moves a little down r.). Nonsense, she can't be, she's 
Irish. 

Tucker {going up stage and looking through door up l.). Maybe 
she is, maybe. {Moves down to end of table.) 

Crane. Look here, Tuck, what the devil were you doing in 
the kitchen I 

Tucker {coming l. of Crane. Is embarrassed for a moment). 
Well, I — happened to be passing the door, when I heard the voices 
of Jane Ellen and some young man, and I'm sorry to say he was 
making love to her, and what is more, I think he kissed her. 

Crane {turning doivn r.). The lucky dog ! 

Tucker {severely). I don't think that's quite the proper attitude 
for you to take. 

Crane {turning to Tucker). What do you suggest ? 

Tucker. The girl should b»' dismissed, of course. 

Crane. Oh, you think so ( 

Tucker. Certainly I do. {Turniug down l.). 

Crane. I see ! 

{Enter Smithfield through stving doors. He moves to sink.) 

Craxe. Smithfield, Mr. Tucker tells me that Brinby attempted 
to strike him after using insulting language. By the way, Tuck, 
what did he call you precisely ? 

Tucker {after business). I believe he referred to me as an old 
chimpanzee. 

(Smitjifield laughs and busies himself at sink.) 

Crane {trying not to laugh). You see, Smithfield ! 
Smithfield {turning back to r. o/ Crane, also trying not to laugh). 
Yes sir, I can't se3ra to break that boy of the habit of exaggeration. 



48 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

(Tucker glares at Smithfield and ivalks furiGiisly up stage to r. 
of the door c). 

Crane. You'll dismiss the boy at once. 

(Smithfield, in pantoinune, protests.) 

See tliat lie jxicks up and is off the premises in an hour. And now 
I want to speak to the cook. {Goes up stage to dresser.) 

Smithfield. Here, sir ? 

Crane. Certainly. 

Smithfield (folloivs up r.c. a little). Beg pardon, sir, but cook 
is lying down. 

Crane (having seen Jaxe through the door). Er — who did you 
say was lying ? 

Smithfield {blandly explaining). Cook, sir,- lying dowii to 
rest, sir. 

Crane. Ah, in the larder, I suppose ? 

Sjiithfield {as Jane Ellen enters). Beg pardon, sir — my 
mistake, sir. 

(Jane Ellen looks in saucepans and examines and stirs the contents.) 

Crane. That will do, Smithfield. 
Smithfield. Yes, sir, thank you sir. 

{He goes to the swing doors, hut remains in sight listening.) 

Tucker {coming down a few steps). Shall I stay and assist you, 
Burton ? 

Crane. No thanks. Tuck, please go. 

Tucker. Oh, very well, very wqW. {He starts to go.) 

Crane {picks up the handkerchief, looks at it). Oh, Tuck 

(Tucker comes hack.) 

Is this your handkerchief ? {Up a step to door.) 

Tucker {looks at it). Mine ? No ! {Sees initials in corner), 
E,. W. As you see those are not iiiy initials, {Exits.) 

(Crane exanmies the initials, and starts, controls himself, glances 
at Jane Ellen, and picts the handkerchief in his pocket and leans 
on hack of chair.) 

Jane {niomng to l. of tahle). Yersilf is aftlier wantin' me. Mister 
Crane ? 

Crane. Er-- yes, Jane Ellen— the fact is^- I---er- ^ {Sees 

Smithfield peeping through pantry door.) That will do. Smith- 
field. 

Smithfield. Yes, sir ; certainly, sir. {Exits reluctantly.) 
Crane. Jane Ellen, I suppose you can <,n'^^ss v.^hat I'm going 
to say. 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 49 

Jane. The luncheon was not satisfactory, sir. 

Crane. It was perfect. The trouble is about what happened 
after luncheon. 

Jane. Oh, sor, an' was it my fault that Mr. Tucker would be 
comin' in the kitchen ? 

Crane. I'm not talking about that. You had a previous visitor, 
1 believe. 

Jane (l. of table) . Yes — -yes, sor. 

(Crane hesitating throughout the scene.) 

Crane. Jane Ellen, I do not approve of young men coming into 
my house and kissing the cook — not — well, not strangers, anyhow. 
(Moves c. a little.) 

Jane. Yes, sor, 'tis meself quite agrees with your honour. 

Crane. You mean to imply, perhaps, that it was not your 
fault. 

Jane. I'm thinkin', sor, that in your class of life, sor, no gintle- 
man is iver kissin'a girl against her will. 

Crane. Ahem ! Well, he shouldn't. I don't want to seem to 
offer you advice . . . 

Jane. Faith, then, I should be pleased if ye would do that, 
sor ; advice is wan av the few things a gintleman may offer a girl 
in my position an' she accept wid a clear conscience. 

Crane. Ahem ! Well then, if I were you I wouldn't have a 
young man like that hanging around unless he intended to marry 
you. 

Jane. Sure, sor, there's no doubt av his inientions. 

Crane (r. of table). Then he's proposed to you ? 

Jane (l. of table). Almost every time he sees me till to-day. 

Crane. But not to-day ? Eh ? 

Jane. To-day, sor, faith, to-day he said he'd not wed me if 
I was the last woman in the world. 

Crane. And what did you think of that ? 

Jane, Sure, sor, I thought it wasn't true. 

Crane (turns back at r.c). Ahem ! I — I — dare say you were 
right. Still I can't see why you let him kiss you, if you didn't 

Jane (comes in front of table). If your honour pleases, 'tis not 
always possible to prevent. Ye see, sor, I'm not so terrible big. 

Crane. Ah, yes, that — now you mention it -that is true. Is 
the young man able to support you ? 

Jane. I think he is, sor. 

Crane. And yet you don't 

Jane. No, sor. Ye sec, sor, I've not the honour to love him. 

Crane (step or tivo to r. side of table). Do you mean that you'd 
rather work for your own living than marry a man you didn't 
love ? 

Jane (solemnly). Faith, sor, an' I would rather die, 

D 



50 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

(Crane looks at her, she meets his gaze. His eyes are the first to fall 
A long fause.) 

Will that be all sor ? 

Crane. Yes, that's all. {Goes uj) c. to door. Turns at door and 
sees her watching him.) 

Jane. Thank ye, sir ! 

Crane. If that young man comes bothering round you ai^ain, 
just let nie know, and I'll settle hira. 

Jane {tossing her head). Faith, he'll not be back 

(Crane laughs.) 

(Pauses) — for a couple of days. 
Crane. What ! Oh I see 



(Jane stands still in front of table, wondering. Crane goes out c. 
door. SMiTiiriELD opens siving doors gradualhj, listening. Then 
he conies in.) 

Smithfield {coming down c). Say, Livy. Did Crane tell you 
he'd fired Charley ? 

Jane {coming up to him). No. 

Smithfield. Well he has. 

Jane. Paul I 

Smithfield {down C). That's right ! 

Jane. Of course, I expected it. What can we do about it ? 

Smithfield. I give it up. 

Jane. Look here, Paul, Randy Weeks slipped in a few minutes 
ago to say he'd got a fresh lot of servants. 

Smithfield. Fine for Randy ! When are they coming ? 

Jane. Not till Tuesday, he thought. 

Smithfield. Well, maybe we can keep going till then. 

Jane. Oh, Paul, we've just got to ! {Goes\o front of table.) 

Smithfield {follows to r. of table- pause). Say, Livv, what did 
Crane ivant v/ith you ? 

Jane. Nothing. 

Smithfield. Nothing ? 

Jane. Nothing much. {A pause.) 

Smithfield. Now see here, Livy ! I think you might tell me 

Jane {mischicvoushj). We— ex— had a little talk. . . . 

Smithfield. What about ? 

Jane. About kissing ! 

Smithfield. Kissing ! {Turns a few steps r.). 

Jane. Yes— kissing and lovin' an* marriage and {Slight 

pause.) Oh, one thing and another. . . . {Goes to stove.) 

Smithfield (going to r. of table). Well, good Lord ! Livy, 
if you're not the most exasperating. . . . Look here — did he try 
to make love to you, too ? You know- - ! 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 51 

Jane {pich uj) copper kettle from stove). Paul, if you don't leave 
me alone I shall certainly throw the kettle at you. How on earth 
do you think I'm going to get on with my work 

Smithfip:lo. Gad ! I tell you one thing — you're altogether too 
o-ood-looking. The next sister I pick out is going to be a sight. 
. . . {Pause.) Oh well, if you're not going to tell. . . . 

Jane. I did tell you. . . . We talked about kissing. {Movmg 
up to top of table.) 

Smithfield {angry). All right, all right, keep it up ! {Sittimj 
chair l.c.) But it doesn't seem to me you're playing the game. 

Jane (moves to hack of Smithfield. She leans over the hack 
of his chair, and rumples his hair). Paul dear, I'll tell you some- 
thing, just now — I — I — can't. Oh, Paul, I feel all of a sudden 
kind of faint, and lonesome- 

(Paul pats her hand on his shoulder.) 

Whenever I feel like that — I just have to be kissed. . . . 

Smithfield {rises). Livy, Livy, Livy ! It's a good thing you 
didn't feel lonesome when you were talking to Crane. (Moves e. 
a little.) 

Jane. I -I did. {Moves to front of fable.) 

Smithfield {turns). What ? 

Jane. Just a little. 

Smithfield {takes her in his arms). There, there, sis, don't you 
bother ! It's all right. Why, where'd we all be if it weren't for — -- 

(Crane comes through c. door. Jane sees him over Smithfield's- 
shoulder, and starts Imck, pushing Smithfield, who turns and also 
sees Crane. SMitufield goes to sink and busies himself with 
dishes.) 

Crane {takes his hat from chair r. of door c). Oh, please don't- 
mind me, I've just come lor my hat. 

Jane. Faith, Mr. Crane, we were only — we were only 

Crane {politely). Yes ? 

Jane. Yes sor. 

Smithfield {turyiing). Yes, sor. exactly sor, if you'll allow me 
to say so sor. {Has plate in hand polishing.) 

Crane. Say what ? 

Smithfield. It',^ -er — it's — precisely ad Jane Ellen was saying, 
sir. Precisely, sir. 

Jane. Yes, sir. It's just like Smithfield was afbher tellin' yer 
honour, so it is now. 

Crane {politely, hut coldly). Ah, now you've expla'med it, it's. 
all perfectly clear. 

(Exits and passes the window.) 
(Jane goes slowly to chair r. o/t. and sits down dejectedly— Buvnibia^iAy 



^2 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

puts plates hacJc on hoard, goes up c. a little — then crosses and 
K. of her.) 

Smithfield. Well, what of it ? 

Jane. Oh, I don't like it. 

Smithfield. Nothing to cry about. All he saw w^as the butler 
kissing the cook. That's all he can think. 

Jane. But I don't want him to think that, indeed I don't. 

Smithfield. Why not ? Why the devil shouldn't the butler 
iiss the cook ? It's perfectly natural, isn't it ? What's the harm ■? 

Jane. Oh, I suppose it's all been done before but I don't like 
it. I don't just seem to like it at all. (Rises and goes front of 
table.) 

Smithfield {suspiciously). But why, why, wJiy ? Now look 
here, Livy. . . . 

Jane {facing him). Well, I'm looking. 

Smithfield. It seems to me — that^ 

Jane. Well? 

Smithfield. I mean does that man- 

Jane. Yes ? 

Smithfield. What I mean is — — 

(A^). 2 hell rings.) 

Oh, coming — coming- — coming. ... 

{Exits through siving doors.) 

{The bell goes on ringing until exit. Jane goes out u]} l. and 
returns almost immediately. As she does this, a strange young 
man of furtive appearance cautiously opens the door dovjn l. He 
gives a hasty glance in the room and then enters to close the door after 
him. He is tall, slr/n, good looking, well dressed, ujhimsical, and 
evidently is on some clandestine errand. He is Tom Lefferts. 
After closing the door, he turns up stage rapidly to c. door and 
looks out 11. then turns doivn stage and looks in cupboard. But 
stops stark still as Jane Ellen says.) 

Jane. Glory be, an' who arc you ? 

Lefferts. Great Venus ! 

Jane. Same to you, sor. 

Lefferts (a step c). Are — are you the cook ? 

Jane. Shure, they call me that, sor. 

Lefferts. Heavens above ! I mean— heavens — on earth. . . . 

Jane. Well, sor ? 

Lefferts. Pardon my agitation, I was expecting to see the cook, 
but not precisely such a cook ! 

Jane. Very sorry I don't suit, sor. {Crosses to sink.) 

Lefferts. Oh you do — you do — you misunderstand me. 
You do ! 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 53 

Jane. Asking your pardon, sor — ^biit- 



Lefferts. Of course you want to knovv what the devil I want 
in your kitchen. 

Jane. Something like that, sor. . . . 

Lefferts. ril tell you. I need your help. 

Jane. Ah, poor man, he's hungry ! Now a bit av cold chicken, 
perhaps. (Starts as if to go to the larder.) 

Lefferts. Cease ! — desist ! . . . 

(She turros hack to sitil-.) 

Do I look like a beggar ? 

Jane. Well, perhaps you don"t exactly. . . . 

Lefferts. And yet I am ! I've come to beg your service — - 
Oh yes Fm hungry, but not for food. I faint, but for assistance ! 
I long for co-operation. I yearn for a colleague. 

Jane. Ye yearn for a colleen ? 

Lefferts. I didn't say it, but I accept your amendment. 
(Moves R. a little). You will help me, won't vou ? [Cominf] hack 

c). 

Jane. Well, I-4ofi'^t know about that. 

Lefferts. Ah ! but already I perceive that we are kindred 
souls. 

Jane. We're notliing of the sort. W^e're total strangers. And 

if you don't get out av my kitchen this blessed minute {Picks 

up dish — ahoiit to throw same.) 

Lefferts. Wait — ^wait. ... I beg of you not to condemn me 
unheard. I am sure you have a kind heart. Xo one so lovely 
could possibly^ (Going toivards her R.) 

Jane. Wheniver they want something they tell ye that ye 
have a kind heart. What is it ? 

Lefferts. Remarkable cook ! — Oh did I mention to you that 
my name was Lefferts ? (Dropping a little l.) 

Jane. Ye did not, sor. 

Lefferts. Well, then, it is. Thomas Lefferts, at your service. 
And now, remarkable cook, there is a lady visiting in this house 

Jane. There is then^ — one. 

Lefferts. Well, one moment. (Goes l. and puts hat on chair 
R. of table, and. turns to Jane.) I am very anxious for her to get 
this letter. (Produces letter.) 

Jane. Oh — -'tis Mrs. Falkener ye mean ? 

Lefferts. Oh, my goodness ! It is not ! 

Jane. Oh, the other wan ? 

Lefferts. You'll admit there's a difference. 

Jane. I will that. 

Lefferts. I am very anxious for Miss Falkener to get this 
letter. 

Jane. Well, Mr.— er—Mr. Thomas — - 



M COME OITT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Leffeets. Left'erts. 

Jane. Shure there's the post office. 

{Vrosses to table and gets on with her cooJdng. Breaks eggs in hoivl.) 

Lefferts {follotvs across to n. of table). Alas, exceptional cook — 
alas that there should be in this world-r-peraons so unprincipled 
as to open, lose, destroy or otherwise interfere v/ith correspondence 
not their own. Yet so it is. 

Jane. An' that wan would do it too. ' 

Lefferts. She would indeed. 

Jane. She would. 

Lefferts {a slight turn). In fact she has. 

Jane. She has ? 

Lefferts (down to her again). I see you understand me already. 
Said I not, oh, culinary marvel, 

(Jane beats eggs in hoivl.) 

said I not, tliat we were kindred souls. You too have been in 
love. . . . 

Jane. Me ? No, not yet, sor. But I'm thinking av it. 

Lefferts {ivonddring if she means him). That is to say 

Jane. And not with you, neither. 

Lefferts. Oh, no, no — [moves up c. and then dotvn again to 
R. of table) — of course not — certainly not. Well, then, I have the 
honour to be — not altogether unpopular with Miss Falkenor . . . 
but to her mother — I am as it were the deadliest of poison. 

Jane. 'Tis a sort av a recommendation, sor. 

Lefferts. In one way — no doubt ; in a way, however, it has 
its inconveniences. Such for example as — clandestine excursions 
to foreign kitchens — I trust you follow me, celestial cook ! 

Jane. Shure you mean sneakin' round the back way ? (Moves 
to towel on the door, and wipes her hands.) 

Lefferts. Back way ! 'Tis a bald, unimaginative phrase, 
but I'm afraid I do. However, time is on the wing ; at any moment 
we may be interrupted 

(The door kUch clicks.) 

Jane (holds the door shut). Some one's here now. Who is it ? 
Just half a minute now. Who is it ? Who is it ? V/ho • 

(Lefferts looks round and rushes into the cupboard r. closing the 
d,oor after him. Jane looks round and finds him gone.) 

Why where is he ? Shnre the man's a sprite. 

{Then she opens the door and Mandy struggles in out of breath, and 

crosses to chair l.c.) 
Mandy ! ! 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 5^ 

Mandy [fanning herself 'with ajyron). Howdy, honey, howdy ? 

howdy ! 

Jane. What are you doing here ? Didn't 1 tell you 

Mandy. Yes'm. . . . Ycs'm, you certainly did. But jes' — • 

jes' let me get mah breaf. 

(Mandy sits r. of table.) 

Jane. Didn't I tell you not to come over here ? 
Mandy. You certainly did, chile. . . . 

Jane. Well, what I want to know is what you're doing here. 
Mandy. Powerful warm ! {Fanning herself with ainon.) 
Jane. Yes. . . . [Pours milk into bowl.) 

Mandy. "Taint the heat so much as it is the humility in de air. 
What's you doing, honey ? 

Jane. Making corn bread. [Stirring contents of botd.) 

Mandy. Is that so, honey ? 

Jane. Yes, Mandy. 

Mandy. Well, w^hat's you all got in it ? 

Jane. There's three eggs. 

Mandy. That's right ! 

Jane. And niilk. 

Mandy. Yes, honey. 

Jane. And I don't know how to go on. . . . 

Mandy. Well, maybe a little corn-meal will help some. 

Jane. Oh, Mandy"! 

(Jane gets corn-meal on table, then gets sugar from, tnantel-piece and 
'puts it in bowl.) 

Mandy. What's that sugar for, honey ( You don't put sugar 
in corn -bread. 

Jane. Cooking for Yankees, Mammy. 

(Mandy laughs and carries egg shells to sink.) 

And how are you, Mammy ? 

Mandy. I'se kickin', but not very hidi. (Takes uji cloth and 
wipes basin.) How's you-all ? 

Jane. Oh, I'se goin' mammy, but grunting — honey — grunting. 
What are you doing here, anyway ? Don't you know I told you 
not to come here ? [Crossing to Mandy.) 

Mandy. Now you hesitate. 

Jane. No, I won't hesitate. Put it down. 

Mandy. I tell you chile, hesitate, hesitate. . . . {Puts bowl 
down.) Laws but you's d^ mos' pestiferous chile. Look here, 
honey, I'se done got somepin what Massa Randy Weeks done tole 
me ter give you. [Starts to fumble for letter.) 

Jane. Oh, bother Ptandy Weeks ! 



56 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. /? /J 4-^ 

Mrs. FalkenePv {off stmje). Burton Fm-goiftg4e-'vrsit the kitchen, 
will you come with me ? J 

Jane. For heaven's sake, Mammy, some one's coming, scoot, 
scoot. 

Mandy. Scoot ! Why, honey, where'il I scoot ? 

Jane. Oh, Mainmy, I don't know, but scoot ! Here, quick, the 
cupboard — quick ! 

Crane {ojf stage). Very well if you say so ! 

Mrs. Falkener {off stage). Oh it's quite all right, quite all 
right! ^llu^^Jn^ SA. hJtC- fr ^J-i.'^c ^lIC^Lli^ 

{During these speeches, Jane grabs Mandy by the wrist and pulls 
her across stage. Opens the cupboard door. Lefferts attempts 
to come out — but is pushed back as Jane pushes Mandy into the 
cupboard and shuts the door. Jane then runs across to l. as Crane 
and Mrs. Falkener enter c. on Cue : " QuitG all right, quite all 
right.' ^) 

(Mrs. Falkener comes doivn c. Crane stands in doorway, and 
remains there.) 
— Crane. Mrs. Falkener insists on seeing your kitchen, Jane 

Ellen, may we come in 1 

Jane. Shure sor, ye're as welcome as — I don't know what ! 

Crane. Thank you. 

Mrs. Falkener. Hm ! {Sniffing.) Something's burning. 

(Mrs. Falkener turns up her nose.) 

Jane. Thank you, ma'am. {Moves a saucepan further bach on 
stove. Ojjens oven and turns chicken.) 

Crane. Nice bright kitchen, isn't it ? {Going to dresser.) 

Mrs. Falkener {going up too). I daresay. 

Crane. And so clean. 

Mrs. Falkener. Of course, on the outside. {Runs her finger on 
of dresser.) Hm, Jane Ellen, do you call that clean ? 

Jane. 'Tis that sorry I am, ma'am, but I've hardly got me 
bearings round the place yet. If ye was to come in next week 
now 

Mrs. Falkener. Yes, I daresay. {Grosses to R. of stage.) Or 
any other time when you knew I w^as coming — {It looks as if she 
were going to open cupboard door — but runs her fingers along moulding, 
showing dust on fingers to Jane — Jane shows alarm— but she passes 
the cupboard and goes on to sink. Looks at piump.) Hm, no running 
water. 

Jane. Faith, ma'am, 'twas not mo that built the house, (l, 
of table.) 

{Enter Araaiini'a. She crosses quickly to r. of tabk\ speaking as she 
enters— front of chair.) 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 57 

Arajtinta. Tin going out for a walk, clear ... if I don't, I'll 
explode. 

Jane. S-s-s-ii ! Look out ! 

Araminta {turns — sees Mrs. Falxener). I beg your pardon ! 

Mrs. Falkener. Burton — Burton ! 

Crane. What's tlie matter ? 

Mrs. Falkener. Tliat — that woman 

Crane. What ? 

Mrs. Falkener. That wonmn 15 wearing Cora's best hat ! 

Crane. What '^ 

Mrs. Falkener. This is really too much ! Even you will 
admit that this is too much I (r. of table.) 

Crane {coming doivn c). Now don't get excited. It probably 
isn't Cora's hat at all. Araminta's probably just copied it. 

Mrs. Falkener. Nonsense ! I think I know a French model 
when I see it ! Young woman, what do you mean by wearing 
my daughter's hat '• 

Araminta. Your daughter's hat ! Nothing of the kind. 

Mrs. Falkener {to Crane). This is insufferable ! To have that 
woman standing there in Cora's hat and then tell me I don't know 
the hat w^hen I see it ! 

Crane. Araminta, have you any explanation ? 

Araminta. None at all! jo^ou^.^y <^-<>-^-.c - 

Crane. Did Miss Falkener^say she intended to oive you the 
hat? 

Araminta. She did not! '^yi^^.-c 

Mrs. Falkener. The idea ! Give a housemaid a $45 hat I 
{Moves R.) '^ 

Crane. Then, Araminta, I'm afraid you must take off the hat, 
give it to Miss Falkener, and go and pack your things and be out 
of the house before dinner. {Goes up stage l.c.) 

(LiVY anrl Bess exchange look. Enter Smithfield ivliistling and 
dancimg through siving doors.) 

Smithfield. Beg pardon, sir. . . . 
Crane. Smithfield, I have dismissed Araminta. 
Smithfield. Dismissed ! 

Crane {moves to top of table). For wearing one of Miss Falkener's 
hats. She has it on novr. 

(Bess goes up c. to l. of door.) 

Jane (talking very fast). Oh no, sor, I can explain that. The hat 
was given by Mrs. Crosslet-Billington, she thinking it a trifle too 
young for herself, she being a lady now possibly Mrs. Falkener's 
age— though hardly looking 45 bv candle light, sor. 

Mrs. Falkener. Really ! 

Jane. Faith, ma'am, if I may make so bold. 'Twas the first 



58 COME OUT OF THE KITCHENT. 

night afther ye came here ar»' Araminta had been unpacking ye, 

shure wasn't it in this same kitchen — she was afther telling' us— 

Miss Falkener has a bonnet the dead spit 

Crane {trying to stop Jane). Yes, yes, yes, now don't get excited 1 
Jane {ivithout stopjnng). — av her own — an we wuz all advisin' 

her f er not to be a wearing her own till ye was off the place, so we wuz 

now. . . . (As she speaks she goes up to door up l.) 

(Outside Cora crosses the window.) 

Smithfield {goes down to fireplace). Just -so milady. Exactly 
what I was going to say. 

{Enter Cora quickly.) 

Cora {as she enters). Burton, aren't you comine; ? {A step inside 
door.) 

Crane. Mrs. Falkener, look ! 

{They all stare from Cora's hat to Araminta's and hack again.) 

Jane. Faith, I said it, the dead spit. 

Crane. Araminta, an apology seems to be due to you. I have 
great pleasure in offering it, though I must say, if you had been a 
little more civil the whole matter could have been cleared up at once, 
{Go?nes round r. of table.) 

Mrs. Falkener. At the same time, Bu'rtoii, I think it outrageous 
that a servant should wear a hat which cost 45 dollars. {Doivn r.) 

(Smithfield moves up stage.) 

(Cora moves across dowti c.) 

Araminta {crossing to c. facing Mrs. Falkener). Indeed ! 
And now I'll tell you what I think is outrageous. And that is that 
women like you, calling themselves ladies — should be free to brow- 
beat and insult servants as much as they please. 

(Cora a little down l.c.) 

Smithfield {coming forward). Araminta, be quiet ! 

Araminta. No, I w^on't ! No one knows what I've put up with 
from that old harridan. 

Mrs. Falkener {moving forward). Burton, stop her ! 

Araminta {'without stopping). And now I'm going to say w^hat 
I think- 

Crane {at r. of tahle). No, you're not ! We're all very sorry 
this has happened, but you really can't be allowed to talk like that. 
Smithfield, take her away ! Pay her off, and don't let us see her 
again. . . . 

(Smithfield tal^^es thejJrotesting Araminta off tkmuglt the swing doors.) 

(Crane continues apologetkally to Mrs. Falkener.) 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 59 

Really, Mrs. Falkener, you can't think how sorry I am — — 
Mrs. Falkener (r.c). Yes, yes, no doubt, no doubt. . . . 
Jane. Don't be angry, ma'am. Couldn't I be afther showin' 

you the larder or somethin' ? 

Mrs. Falkener. The idea ! Cora, we'll leave this place at once. 

{Majestically she turns to march off and with the utmost dignity, mis- 
takes the cupboard door for the swiny door, and so opens the cujDhoard 
door. It has been pretty tight (piartcrsfor Mammy and Lefferts, so 
Maxdy bounces out like a rubber ball, bumping into Mrs. Falkener, 
who 'with a slight shriek pushes her back, and goes down stage R. 
Mandy emerges from the cupboard, staggers across stage and ■ 

Exits door doivn l. 

All eyes follow her till she is ivell off. Jane opens the door for 
Mandy to exit. Then closing it, stands leaning against portal. 
Then they turn to see Lefferts j^ist outside the cupboard, his hat 
is broken, his tie disarranged and his hair rumpled. He is pant- 
ing. Cora comes down to r. of Lefferts.) 

Crane. What is this ? What is this ? f^ 

OoR A {down n.). Tom Lefferts ! ! {Exclamation.) "^(K/^^ 
Lefferts {iveakly). Er — how do you ^2J>c^''*'^^ 
Mrs. Falkener {cros!}iug to v.). Burton^Jwhat i.'^he meaning of 
this ? 

(CcrA CGnics down below cupboard.) 

Crane. I haven't the slightest idea ! Perhaps Jane Ellen will 
explain ! 

Jane. Faith, sor, I never set eyes on either oi 'em before. 

{Exits through door up l.) 

Crane. Cora, you seem to knov/ the young man ? 

Cora. Er — yes. Allow me. This is Mr. Crane. 

Lefferts. Delighted to meet you, how arc you ? 

Crane. May I ask to what I owe this unexpected honour ? 

Lefferts. Well — er — the^ — er — that is to say- — er — well, the 
fact is- 

Mrs. Falkener {interrupting). The fact is, Burton— — 

Lefferts {rallying and making a fight for it). Allow me, Mrs. 
Falkener. {Crosses to Mrs. Falkener.) As the injured party 

Mrs. Falkener. The injured party ! {Crosses to Cora r.) 

Lefferts (c). Precisely. I appeal to you, Mr. Crane — had I 
or had I not the right to assume that if there was one place on earth 
where I would be safe from the pursuit of Mrs. Falkener — it would 
be in the kitchen cupboard ? 

Crane. Well, really, I'm not in a position to answer that. 

Lefferts. Of course, certainly. Any right-minded person 



60 COxME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

would say as much. Well sir, secure in my confidence, I retire to 
my cupboard for rest and seclusion. Do I get it ? I do not. . First 
of all I am forced to sliare my cupboard — quite against my will — with 
a stout elderly female person of colour. And as if that weren't 
bad enough — who should burst .in upon me but Mrs. Falkener. 
That diddled me. It's intrusion ! Thafs what I call it. Unwar- 
rantable intrusion! And now, Mrs. Falkener, I should like to 
know what you mean by it ? 

{During this speech Mrs. Falkener is talking and scolding Cora, ivho 
is inclined to laiigh.) 

Mrs. Falkexer. Mr. Lefferts ! 

Lefferts. Why the devil can't you keep out of my cupboard ? 

Mrs. Falkener {crossing to Crane l.c). Burton, this wild 
nonsense has gone far enough 1 that man has pursued my daughter 
for over a year, although I have forbidden him to see her or to com- 
municate with her in any way. My judgment of his character is, 
sufficiently confirmed by this latest outrage. He calls himself 
a poet — what he and that colSi»©d- person were doing in that cup- 
board I leave for him to say. 

(Lefferts goes up to door c, jyrotesting.) 

Cora {half langhing). Oh, mother ! {She goes up and joins 
Lefferts near door c.) 

(Lefferts gives her the note he has for her.) 

Mrs. Falkener {ivithout stopping). And now, Burton— my 
daughter and I have trespassed sufficiently on your hospitality. 
We will return to Washington by the next train. Kindly have^the 
motor ready. {She starts to go, again opening the cupboard door. 
With an exclamation of disgust she slams it to.) Will some one be 
good enough to show me the way out ? 

Lefferts. With the greatest of pleasure, ma'am. \^ 

Mrs. Falkener. Cora, come with me. 

(Mrs. Falkener exits through suing doors.) 

{Off stage.) Cora ! 

Cora. Yes, mother, I"n\ coming. {Throiving a kiss to Lefferts 
she folloivs Mrs. Falkener.) 

(Crane and Lefferts look at each other and laugh quietly. Crane 
sits at corner of table.) 

Lefferts {comes down to Crane). I take it that things are fairly 
clear to you. Oh, my goodness, isn't that old woman a terror ! 
And I did so want a word with Cora 

Crane. Of course I understand, it's all clear enough. I'll do 
my best to square you with her. 

(Lefferts moving a little down r.) 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN: 61 

Lefferts. Oh, it's awfully good of you, I"ni afraid it can't be 
done. The devil of it is, I'm practically a pauper — and- • 

Crane. Are you staying in the neighbourhood ? 

Lefferts. Oh yes, only a mile away, with the Randolphs. 

Crane. Well, then, come over to dinner to-night, and I'll try 
and make Mrs. Falkener see reason. We'll see what can be done. 

Lefferts {going to c). You're awfully good, but 

Crane. Not a bit of it. 

Lefferts. Well, if you're going to square me in that quarter 
you'll need all the time there is, so perhaps Fd better hop off. (Starts 
to door doivn l.) 

Crane {stopjnng him). No, come this way, I'll have my chauffeur 
take you over. 

Lefferts. Thanks, thanks. (Goes to door c), 

Crane. Oh, Mr. Lefferts 

(Lefferts turns.) 

Are you really a poet ? 

Lefferts. Well, sometimes I have a jingle published, but my 
,real job is assistant editor of a thing called the Statistician. I 
merely write the jingles as an antidote. {Starts to go again — turns.) 
AVhat does the good book say ? " What is whispered in the closet 
shall be shouted from the house-tops.*' How true ! How very 
true ! {Exits c.) 

Crane {calling after liim). I'll be with you in a moment. 

{On Lefferts' ea^ii, Jane Ellen ei^iers fZoo;- wpi.., and stands between 
table and stove. For a w,oment she watches Crane, whose back is 
towards her, and then drops a spoon into a hoivl. The slight noise 
attracts Crane, loho turns. There is a slight pause.) 

Jane Ellen, I have a most unpleasant task to perform. {Gomes 
down c.) Perhaps you know when I leased this house, it was 
arranged with Mr. Weeks to furnish a competent staff of white 
servants. Now you, Jane Ellen, are a most competent cook and 
Smithfield's ail right, but as for the other two — well, you know how 
competent they are. I .shall pay you and Smithfield six weeks' wages 
and I shall cancel the lease and leave the house tomorrow. If the 
Daingerfields want their money, they can sue me for it as long as 
they please. {Goes up c.) 

Jane (very softly). Shure— shure — you don't mean that ? 
(Moving round to r. of table.) 

Crane. I do ! (Coming towards her.) 

Jane. Mr. Crane^ — Mr. Crane — you won't be breakin' the lease ? 
Shure there's no trouble at all afther once you get Mrs. Falkener out 
av the place. (She is coming r. of table, slowly toivards him.) Oh, 
Mr. Crane, please. . . . (She puts out her hands, which he instinctively 
tries to take and she, almost tvithout knowing, withdraws them.) 



62 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Crane. Jane Ellen — Jane Ellen, you know you're a very strange 
girl. 

Jane {in a soft vMsper). Yes, sor. 

Crane. Are you quite sure there's not something you want 
to tell me ? 

Jane {tvhispering). No, sor, no. . . . 

Crane. Because if there is — I feel sure you could trust me to- — 
to understand. You seem to be in some sort of trouble. And if I 
can — I'd like^ — oh, I'd like so very nmcli to help you. 

Jane. You're very kind, sor — but there's nothing you can do — 
(tiny jxmse) — nothing. 

Crane. Are you quite sure you can't tell me ? Because you see 
— Jane Ellen — when you look like that, it seems somehow I just 
have to do something about it. 

Jane. You're very kind, sor. 

Crane. Now wouldn't it make it easier if you could think of me 
just for a moment — not as your employer, but just as a decent chap, 
who'd do anything in tlie world to make you smile again. Because 
you know, Jane Ellen, when you smile, when you smile • 

(Jane is smiling.) 

That's it. . . . Come now, don't you think you could tell me ? 
{Pausr..) 

Jane. No, sor. 

Crane. Why not, Jane Ellen ? 



{Paw 



Jane. Well, sor, this is the way av it. Supposing — supposing 
you were in a bad fix ; supposing those you loved, your very dearest, 
were to be sick and in trouble ; suppose you picked out the grandest 
plan to save them, and then after you'd done your very best, every- 
thing was to go smash, well, that's the time there's nothing left to 
do but just to creep into your own heart and shut the door. 

Crane {pause). I'm sorry, Jane Ellen. I'm sorry. {Pats her 
hand.) 

(Crane exits door c. without stopping. 

When he is off Jane goes sloivly up stage to door c, leayis her head 

against the door and is evidently erying. 
Manj^y enters doum l., tool's to see if I.ivy is alone and then goes R. 

of table.) 

Mandy. Say, Jioney. I done found dat Why, honey chile, is 

yo' crying ? 

Jane. No, Mummy ! 

Mandy. Honey lamb, chile ! Nov/ don't you go spoilin" your 
blessed eves ! 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 



6:^ 



Jaxe. It's nocliiir, Maiiuny, nothin* ! {Turning and coining 
towards Mandy.) 

Mandy {in front df chair l.c). I done found dat lattah that 
Massa Eandy Weeks done gib nie. He says it's a cable. 

Jane {going up to Mandy). A cable ? 

Mand\\ Yas'm honey. 

Jane {takes eahlegram, opens il — doesn't look at it). Mammy, I'm 
afraid ! 

Mandy Dere — dere — hon<n' chile 

Jane. Oh ! ! oh, Mammy ! {She opens the cable sloivly, reads 
it, then drops cable and, puts hands to her face.) 

Mandy. Honey chile, what's de mattah ? 

Jane. Oh, it's daddy, the surgeons have operated on him ! 

Mand\\ Then it's gwine to be all right honey. 

Jane. They don't — they don't know yet. It's too soon to tell. 
Oh Mammy ! Mammy ! If he shouldn't get well ! What shall I 
do, oh, what shall I do ? Oh, Mammy, oh Mammy, if he shouldn't 
get well ! 

{This last line is almost iwiHieulate as Jane, sohhing, falls into Mammy's 
arms, who seats herself lifting Jane on to her lap, as if she ivere a 
child again.) 

Mandy. Dere, den, dere- My little lady baby, my little lady 
I)aby ! 

Slow Curtain. 



ACT III 

BcE^E.—The dining-room, just before dinner on the same da^ 
as Act II. The room has tivo windoivs l. They are low French 
windows, the lower one opening o'>i a verandah: The entrance 
from the hall is at rear, l.c. The entrance to the butler's pantrif 
is at R.c. This door has a screen in front of it. Just below this 
door, R., is a serving table ivhich stands against the r. wall. A 
beautiful old mahogany sideboard stands n. against the wall at r. 
The dining table stands at c. ,• is oval and not very large— just 
hig enough for four persons. There are lighted candles on the side- 
board. 

Discovered at rise of curtain Smithfield. He is just finishing 
setting the table. He stands at back of tabic. 

{Enter Brindlebury at r.c. His get-up is totalhj different- 
He wears a grey wig, very suspicious-lGoking grey side-ivhiskers 
and a suit of nondescript clothes much too big for him.) 

Brindlebury (poking his head around the screen). Hist ! 

Smithfield. Look here, Charlie, didn't I tell you to lie low ? 

Brindlebury [coming in around screen). Yes, but Livy says • 

Smithfield. I don't care what she says. 

Brindlebury. What ! , 

Smithfield. You've got to kee]i out of sight as much as possible, 
or it'll be all up. 

Brindlebury. Aw, say, Paul, they'll never suspect. Didn't 
I help take the old lady's truiiks downstairs right under her very 
nose ? 

Smithfield. Yes, I know, but 

Brindlebury [comes from screen at upper end.- of the sideboard r.). 
And say, just look at this. D'ye ever see a. finer limp ? [He stumps 
up and down r. with the walk of a man with a stiff leg.) 

Smithfield (c). It's a good enough limp — but your make-up's 
rotten — (crosses to r. neccr screen) — and your voice is worse. 

(Charlie exclaims.) 

Don't you ever get near enough for Crane to speak to you. Keep 
away under cover— not that it )nakcs imich dii?ercii«3e, I reckon. 

64 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. fe 

BRmDLEBURY. Whv, wliat do you mean ? 
Smithfield. Oh, nothing. You'll know soon enough. 

{He goes out at R.c. Brindlebury goes r. Enter Craxe from the 
hall door l.c. He ivears evening clothes.) 

Crane. Oh, Smithfield. 

Brindlebury {hand to ear). Eh ? 

Crane {sees Brindlebury, who is up stage above sideboard). 
Here, I say — What's your name ? 

Brindlebury {in a thin squeaky voice). Yes, sir, I am lame. 
Been so ever — — 

Crane {stands l. and above table c, shouting). No, no, I asked 
your name ? 

Brindlebury. When I came ? Oh, this afternoon, sir. Mr. 
Smithfield he telephones to my wife, sir. ... He says, " Susan," 
he says, " Susan "... 

Crane {sternly). Come here ! 

Brindlebury. Hey ? 

Crane. Come here. Let me look at you. . . . 

{At this, Brindlebury limps sloivly to l., heloiv table c, and 
jumps out of the lower French ivindoiv and disapjjears.) 

Here ! What's the matter with you ? 

{He dashes out of the ivindow in pursuit.) 

Come here ! 

(Mandy enters from upper windoiv. Sees Crane and Brindlebury 
exit. Roars ivith laughter.) 

Mandy {near windmv doivn l.). For de good Lawd's sake, foot 
carry me fast ! I wonder what's dat ! (Laughs. Feels about for 
cable.) 

{Enter Paul r.c.) 

Paul {erosses to c. front of table). What are you doing here ? 

Mandy. Ne' mind, ne' mind; is you ail alone, honey ? 

Paul. Yes, Mandy, what is it ? 

Mandy. Marse Randy ... he done give me another one of 
dem cable-urns. {She gives cablegram.) He told me to fotch it 
right up to you all. Lordy, Massa Paul, I'sejust full o' cable-ums. 
Hah yo' is. {Laughs.) 

Paul (c, front of chair ; reads it softly. Checks her). Mandy, 
Mandy ! Thank God ! 

Mandy. About yo' paw, Marse Paul ? 

Paul. Yes, Mandy. 

Mandy. What he say ? 

Paul. He's out of danger, thank God ! 



m COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Mandy. Ain't de Lawd good ! {Quickly.) Where my lir 
white baby ? {Crosses to r.c.) 

Paul. In the kitchen, Mandy. 

Mandy. Marse Paul, Miss Livy, she's worryin" her little heart 
out. You give me dat cable-um. 

{He gives it to her.) 

I just tote it down to dat chile. Dis mammy want her baby to 
get dis blessed news fast ! {Goinc/.) Oh, Massa Paul, ain't de 
Lawd good ? Oh, Massa Paul, ain't de Lawd good ? - 

{Exit door r.c.) 

(Smithfield moves e. to sideboard : tahes up and looJcs at cable 

envelope.) 

(Tucker e7tters door l.c.) 

Tucker {comes to r.c, above table). Smithfield, when will dinner 
be^ — ^served ? 

Smithfield. Oh, presently, presently. 

{Exit door R.c. Crane appears at window and enters.) 

Crane. Phew- ! Haven't run so fast since I w^as in college. 
Tucker (r.c). May I inquire — — ? 
Crane. Certainly, IVe been chasing Brinby. 
Tucker. Brinby ! 

Crane {goes up C). No less. There's his wig. {Tosses it to 
Tucker.) 

Tucker {caiches wig). Good gracious! Then — • — ■ 

Crane. Precisely. The aged servitor with the stiff leg — Brinby. 

Tucker. Good Lord ! I shouldn't be surprised if we were all 
murdered in our beds. 

Crane. Which leads us to the next step. {Takes tvig from, 
Tucker as he crosses to r.c) 

(Tucker m,oves l.) 

{Enter Smithfield r.c, with cigar tray.) 

Smithfield. ... 

Smithfield. Yes, sir. {Approaches Crane.) 

Crane. I fear your new useful man v/on't do. He seems to me 
a bit too ancient. 

Smithfield (a/ r. below Crane). Oh, sir, he's not so old as he 
looks. 

Crane. I thought not. 

Smithfield. Only sixty-six his next birthday. 

Crane. Sixty-six ? 

Smithfield. Or seven. 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 67 

Crane. Siir|)ri.siMg. eh, Tuck ? 

Tucker. Very. 

Crane. Is he nuirried ? 

Smithfield. Not yet — that is — he's a widower of many years' 
standing. His poor wife died when her first baby was born. 

Crane. Her first baby ? 

Smitiifield. That's Mr. CrossU>tt-Billington\> present chauffeur, 
sir. . . . 

Crane. The baby t 

Smithfielt). Yes. sir —no, sir, that's iiovv I liappencd. . . . 

Crane. That's enough, Smithfield. Your aged friend is Brinby . 
. . . Don't atop to pack, Mr. Week^s will send your things. Cr^ 
out of my house at once. And if you want a testimonial I will 
write you one, saying that you ar(? the most competent liar of m y 
acquaintance. And there's a souvenir for you. {Tosses wig to 
Smithfield.) 

Smithfield {looks at the vng). Thank you, sir. {Willi a gulp.) 
Will that be all, sir !? {Goes' up a litthy 

Crane. Quite ail. 

Smithfield. Thank you, sir. 

{Takes salver ffom, sidehoard, places wig on it and. exists r.c.) 

Crane. Well, Tack, we seem to be shrinking. {Sits in chair R- 
end of table.) 

Tucker (l. of laMe, leans on chair l. of table end.) In the course 
of a long and varied experience at the bar ! 

Crane. Yes, yos. . . . Now, will you oblige me by telephoning 
Mr. Weeks to come out here at once. I think we'll end this episode 
immediately. Tht' ladies have left us, one in tears, the other in 
wrath. . . . Three out of four servants have departed, the roof '11 
be falling in next. . . . 

Tucker {going). Ill telephone Mr. Weeks at once. . {Starts 
towards door l.c, stops.) 

Crane. Good ! 

T!ucKF.R (pauses). Oh, but it's nearly dinner time. 

Crane. Ask him to dinner, then. 

Tucker. Very w^ell. Burton. 

Crane. I asked Lelferts, too ! 

Tucker. That man ! Really. . . . 

Crane. Oh, come off. Tuck. Stop that bad imitation of your 
sister. Lefferts is all right, and you know it. Eun along, please. 

Tucker {at door l.c, turns). By the way, Burton, who's going 
to serve the dinner ^ 

Crane. Oh, that's what I'm going to sec about now. 

{Exit Tucker, door l.c.) 
(Crane rises and goes to puntrg door, slops as if going to call, bv.t 



r,8" COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

rings hell cord at mantel and comes down to hade of armchair r. 
end of the table and stands tvaiting.) 

(Jane airpears e.g., after a pause.) 
Jane Ellen, come here. 

(Jane is very gentle and rather ivistful, hat confident of the hindlif 
reception which she does not get.) 

(Severely.) Jane Ellen. ... 

Jane {stands on his R.). Oli, sor, this time faith I know what's 
afther niakin' ye scold. 

Crane {stiffly). I am not going to scold. 

Jane {smiling, good-naturedly). Sure, sor, an' that's a wonder 
■so it is. 

{She gets no answer ing smile. Pauses.) 

Ah, novv , Misther Crane, sure an' I couldn't be afther givin' Smith- 
field away over that nonsense about the boy, now, cud I ? 

Crane. Really, I haven't considered the matter at all. 

Jane. Why, Misther Crane, what's come over ye ? 

Crane. Be good enough not to ask questions. I wish to give 
some orders. 

Jane. Orders ? {Stiffens herself and, freezes.) Indade, sor ? 

Crane. Two gentlemen are coming to dinner, that makes four 
in all, and as Smithfield is gone you will have to serve dinner as 
well as cook it. 

Jane. No, sor, certainly TU not. 

Crane. AVhat ? 

Jane. Sure, it's a cook I am and not butler at all. 

Crane. Jane Ellen, you will do as you arc told. 

Jane. I'll do no such thing, then. 

Crane. Jane Ellen, you will serve dinner. 

Jane. Misther Crane, I will not. 

{There is a brief pause.) 

Crane {crosses to l.c, front of table c). We seem to be dealing 
with the Eternal Problem between employed and employer. You're 
not lazy, the work is nothing, yet you deliberately choose to stand 
en your rights on a purely technical point. 

Jane. I'm doin' nothin' of the sort, then. 

Crane. I should like to know what you call it ? 

Jane. Sure, Fm making myself just as disagreeable as I can. 

(Crane annoyed.) 

'Tis charmed l"d be fer to oblige a gintleman that asked me nice 
an' polite-like ; whin a man talks about orders an' me doin' as 
I'm told, aJi I got to say to that man is he'd onght to be thinkin' 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 09 

av thim things bofore he'c? dismissin' me two brothers, so he'd ought. 
Orders ! Humph ! 

Crane. Two brotht>rs, cJi ? So Smithfield is your brother, 
too ? 

Jane. Well, sor, I wasn't meanin' to tell ye, but 'tis a fact. 

Crane. Rather unusual for an Irish girl to have English brother,^ 
isn't it ? 

Jane {after a pause). Faith, the two av tliini was raised in London 
from a couple av kids. 

Crane. Whereas you were brouglit up in Ireland ? 

Jane. Faith I was, then — God forgive me ! 

Crane. And Miss Olivia Daingerfield has known vou all her 
life ? 

Jane. Sure, shj*. was on"y wTitin' a testimonial. You know 
what them things is. 

Crane. Say, why didn't you tell nie before that Smithfield 
was your brother ? 

Jane. Faith, I can't see what difference it makes at all. 

Crane {now suddevdy high-spirited). W^hy, it makes all tlie differ- 
ence in the world. If he's your brother he's got a perfect right to 
• — no— I didn't mean that. {Coughs and moves to l., several steps.) 

Jane {moving a little to 1,.). To what ? 

Crane {returns to c). Ah — er — that is to say. ... I apologizt^ 
for everything I've said since you came in here and ask you most 
humbly if you won't be so kind as to help me out. ... You are 
going to be an angel and serve dinner, aren't you "? 

Jane. Didn't I say I would, if I was asked polite-like ? 

Crane. Thank you, thank you. Indeed, Jane Ellen. . . . 
(Moves up L. of table, turns, crosses.) You are an angel. Thank 
you, thank you ! 

{Exit Crane door l.c. Jane follows round to l.c.) 

{After a ')noment, Smithfield peeps ?'/a around screen.) 

Smithfield. Hist ! 

Jane {gets to hack of the table c. Starting : vjith a gasp). Oh, 
Paul ! You frightened me. Where's Bess and Charley '? 

Smithfield. Up in the garret, playing Cooncan. 

Jane. The poor dears must be starved. Tell them not to make; 
any noise. I'll slip up after dinner and bring you a bite, if there';^ 
any left. Now, quiet, all of you ! {Crosses down to chair l. of 
table.) 

Smithfield. Yes, but what are you going to do ? 

Jane. I told you. 

Smithfield. But it's no use. The game's up. 

Jane. All the same, I'm going to stay and see the last card 
played. 



70 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Smithfield. What's the good ? He's going to break the lease 
and get out to-morrow. I heard old Tucker telephoning to Randy 
to come over at once. You can't do anything. Come on. Let's 
all get away. 

Jane. No, indeed. 

Smithfield {goes toimrds ha). Easy ! You're not going on 
doing this man's w^ork ? 

Jane. He may change his mind. 

Smithfield. Livy. . . . 

Jane. Besides, the poor man's got to eat. 

Smithfield. Now, look here ! Look here, Livy, I think you — • — ■ 

Jane. Hah! Somebody's coming! {Drops dovm e.g. to side^ 
hoard.) 

(Smithfield hastily goes out at r.c.) 

(Tucker conies in from the hall door, l.c.) 

Tucker. Ah, Jane Ellen. . . . 

Jane. Good evenin', Misther Tucker. 

Tucker {coyning close to her). The time has come sooner than we 
thought when I can be of assistance to you. 

Jane. Yes, indade, sor. {She thrusts the carving knife and fork 
into his hand.) 'Tis a dale of work fer a poor gurt. Will ye kindly 
jmt them at Misther Crane's place ? Right over there. 

(Tucker, still looking at her, places knife and fork so that theg poin. 
towards chair l. of table, and then comes towards Jane Ellen. 

Oh, sor, not that way. Niver turn the point of a knife towards the 
chair, 'tis bad luck, sor. 

(Tucker, smiling nervously, readjusts the knife and fork.) 

(Crossing to lower end of sideboard.) Faith, 'tis a wicked bad butler 
you'd make, and no mistake. 

Tucker {looking cautiously at door, and then crossing to Jane 
Ellen : in a confidential tone of voice). There's something I want 
to say to you before any one comes in. 

Jane {in order to prevent his touching her, hurriedly blows out 
the three candles on candelabra and swings around to Tucker). Have 
ye a match about ye, now ? 

(Tucker takes a match fro'm his pocket.) 

Sure, you're a match for any wan, so ye are, now. 

Tucker {lighting the candles). I suppose you know Mr. Crane 
is leaving to-morrow ? 

Jane. Yes, sor, so I've heard. 

Tucker. And you are about to lose your place. 

Jane. Yes, sor. 'Tis the first wan I iver lost. 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. n 

Tucker. Then why not make it the last ? 
Jane. Sor ? {Keeps lighted candle between herself and Tucker.) 
Tucker. Why not come to me ? / could offer you a position 
you need never leave. 

Jane. Please leave me pass, sor. 

Tucker. But, Jane Ellen, I want to tell you 

(J^NE rings the silver dinner bell violently with her left hand, holding 
candle in right.) 

Jane Ellen, what are you doing ? 

Jane. Faith, sor, I can't be running ail over the house calling 
people to dinner. 

Tucker. But there's something I want to tell you. . . . 

{Enter Crane, hastily, door l.c.) 

Crane. Why, what's the matter ? 

(Tucker crosses to l. in front of table, with back to audience.) 

What the deuce are you doing here, Tuck ? 

Tucker. I — er — I was assisting Jane Ellen to set the table. 

(Jane Ellen laughs and exits through screen door.) 

Crane. The devil you were ! 

Tucker. You mean to say you question my word ? {Going up 
to door L.c.) 

Crane. You bet I do ! 

Tucker {at door). And may I ask what you think I was doing ? 

Crane. Well, I don't think you were picking daisies. 

(Tucker exits indignantly, closing door after him.) 

Crane {at screen). Jane Ellen ? Jane Ellen ! 

(Jane enters.) 

Jane. Yes, sor ? 

Crane. Was Mr. Tucker making love to 3'ou ? 

Jane. Well, sor, I couldn't be saying fer sure. 

Crane. Nonsense ! Don't you know ? 

Jane. Faith, then, how's a poor girl to know ? The gintlemen 
liave so many ways of making love. 

Crane. The trouble with you, Jane Ellen, is— that you are a 
damn sight too pretty. 

Jane. Aw, Mr. Crane, stop your blarney. 

Crane {imitating her brogue). As if every man you've known 
fer the last five years hadn't been saying the same thing to you. 

Jane {giving him a little look). Shure, sir, none of them was iver 
saying it quite like that, sor. 



72 . COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

{She turns swiftly ami goes into the butlers paMnj. Crane laughs 
and watches her off. She changes to Maid's black dress. The 
voices of Lefferts a^id Weeks are heard in hall. Crane turns 
as they enter the door, l.c.) 

Crane. Ah, Mr. Weeks ! Mr. Lefferts ! Glad you could come 
at such short notice, Mr. Weeks ! 

Weeks {at 'mantel). Well, I'm not far away, but I couldn't 
have made it without the little Ford. 

Lefferts {near ivindow l.). Yes, you know, it's the motor car 
that makes country life possible. 

Crane. Yes, and it's the Ford that makes it probable. {Goes 
io the sideboard.) 

Lefferts. Very true, but tell me, where are the ladies ? 

Crane {pouring out four glasses of sherry from the decanter). Oh, 
didn't Tucker tell you ? 

Lefferts. No ! 

Crane. They were suddenly called away. 

Lefferts. Called away ? 

Crane. Yes, I'm sorry . . . but one of them felt that both 
of them must go. And one of them left a note for you. 

Lefferts {crossing in front of table to r.). No need to ask which 
one ? 

Crane. I think not. {Giving Lefferts a note.) 

Lefferts [ai c). Thank you. {Opens a letter. Moves l. a 
little.) 

Crane. By the wa}', Mr. Lefferts, as a professional statistician, 
you've probably heard of a periodical called the Financier ? 

Lefferts {putting letter in his pocket). Oh, yes. 

Crane. Well, I own it. Never read it, but I own it. Don't 
know a damn thing about it. I need an editor. Could you do it ? 

Lefferts (going a little up to Crane ; very surprised). I ? 

Crane. Yes. Present editor's leaving. He doesn't know it, 
but he is. Like the job ? 

Lefferts. Would I ? 

(Weeks moves back io mantel.) 

Crane. Give you nve thousand dollars to start with — ^if that's 
enoucrh. 

Lefferts {goes to him). Enough? By gosh! it you don t 
look out, I'll kiss you. But, joking apart, you don't know what 
this means to me. 

{They shake hands.) 

Crane. Oh, that's all right. 

{Enter Tucker.) 

(Lefferts drops down r., Crane at sideboard.) 



COME OUT OF IHE KITCHEN. 73 

Ak, here's tli*^- gonial M'uck I Ju?!:. in time for a glass of sherry. 

(All come to sideboard. The men all take a glass of shernj.) 

Tuck, you know Mr. Lef?erts ? 
Tucker. I've heard of him. 
Leffkrts. Favoarably, I trust. 
Tucker. From my sister, Mrs. Falkener, sir. 
CuAXE. Well, here'i:4 a toast ! Here's to Cupid, the statistician ! 

(Lefferts a}id Weeks laugh.) 

Weeks. Don't know what it means, but here's to it ! 

{Theg all dyrmk.) 

Crane. Oh, ajiy toast will do, if the drink's right. 
Lefferts. Ah ! Now, that's something like sherry. 

(Weeks moves l.) 

Tucker (puis glass on sideboard and goes c, behind table). Very 
good v/ine indeed. Burton, very good. (To Weeks.) Are you 
fond of sherry, Mr. Weeks ? 

Weeks. Oh, we drink quite a lot of it down here. 

(During the last two speeches, Crane has shown Lefferts the handker- 
chief he picked up in the Second Act. As if saying, " There's 
going to be some fun with Weeks,") 

Crane. Oh, by the^ way, Mr. Weeks, this is yours, I think ? 
Weeks (comes to r. of table). Mine ? 

(Tucker goes doivn l.) 

Crane. Yes. R.W. Your initials, aren't they '(■ 
Weeks (taking handkerchief , and very rattled). Why, yes — -yes— 
er — er — it must be mine. (Moves l.c.) 

Crane. I found it in the kitchen this afternoon. 

(Lefferts laughs.) 

Tucker (looks at Weeks, then to Crane). Wliere ? 
Crane. In the kitchen. Tuck ! 

(Tucker realizes that Crane is thinking of the blackface.) 

Tucker. Oh. yes, yes, of course. (Goes up stage to back of table.) 
Weeks (moves down l., inopping neck ivith handk^erchief). Yes- 

AwfuUy warm for this time of year. 

Crane. Very. Suppose we sit down, gentlemen; Mr. Lefferts, 

Mr. Weeks, Tuck ! 

(Lefferts sits r. a,t end of the table. Weeks sits with his hack to 
the audience. Tucker sits back of the table, facing Weeks.) 



74 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

f UCKER {taking his seat). Well, I'm ready for one. 

Crane. Always, Tuck, always. 

Lefferts {lookmg at Tucker). Oh, really T 

(Jane Ellen enters with soup plates. She crosses to Crane as if 
to put them on the table. Crane jumps from his chair, taking the 
soup 2)lates from the tray. He watches Jane Ellen as she exits.) 

Wonderfully attractive country round here, Mr. Weeks. 

Weeks. Glad you appreciate it, Mr. Lefferts. Is this your first 

visit down here ? 

Lefferts. Yes. I am, as you probably guessed, a Northerner, 
Weeks. Well, I hope tliis won't be your last visit, Mr. Lefferts 

(Tucker has unfolded his ■napkins and settled himself at the table 
during the preceding speeches. He turns to see Crane holding 
the soup plates, and gazing fatuously towards the butler's j)antry.) 

Tucker. Burton, what are you doing with the soup plates? 

(Crane, rather annoyed, sits down, putting soup plates in front of him.) 

Weeks. Where are you staying ? 

(Jane Ellen brings on soup tureen, takes it to Crane. He removes 
it fr-om tray, f lacing it on table front of him : starts to serve.) 

Lefferts. I'm staying with some friends, the Randolphs. 
Friends of yours, I believe. 

Weeks. Yes. Jack Randolph and I went to school together. 

Tucker {to Lefferts). Will you please pass me the olives ? 

Lefferts {passing them). Yes, I think I heard Jack speak of 
you. 

Weeks. Yes, we were at school together at Charlotteville. 
You're very fortunate to be here at this time of the year. 

Lefferts. How's that ? 

Weeks. This is our hunting season, you know. 

{Soup to Weeks.) 
Tucker. Will you please pass me the almonds ? 
(Lefferts passes them, rather annoyed.) 

{By this time Jane Ellen has served soup to Weeks. Weeks has 
not noticed that it is Jane Ellen who is serving the table. As she 
puts the soup plate doivn, he sees that her hand and ar^n are obviously 
not the hand and arm of Smithfield : His eyes follow her arm up 
till they come to her face. He is horrified. Jane Ellen makes a 
face at him and turns back to get soup for Lefferts. Passes soup 
to Lefferts.) 
Tucker {as Jane passes soup to Lefferts). Will you please 

pass me the salt ? 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 75 

(This time Lefferts 'pasr,es Mm the salt, pepper, the butter dish, 
the butter htife, and anythinf/ else he can think of. Duri}ig this, 
Jane Ellen has given the soup to Tucker.) 

(Exit Jane Ellen.) 

(The men start to drink their soup.) 

(Jane Ellen re-enters almost imwMiately .) 

Crane. How's the soup, Tucker ? 
Tucker. Excellent, Burton, excellent ! 
Lefferts (after slight pause?}. Very soothing. 
Weeks (after slight pause). Just right, just right ! 
Crane (after slight pause). You can't beat these people down 
here for soup. 

(The 7nen finish their soup.) 

TueKER. Well, in my opinion, a good soup is the foundation 
of a good dinner. The only thing I could suggest is a little more 
pepper. Will you pass the pepper, please ? 

Lefferts. Tell me, would you like a little mustard ? 

(They all laugh.) 

(Crane signals to Jane Ellen to take the plates c^vau. She takes 
Weeks' plate first, then Lefferts'. As she takes Lefferts' 
plate, he looks up at her, and as she exits with the plates to the pantry, 
it is almost as if he were drawn out of his chair by her charm. He 
takes a feiv steps toivards the jiantry and. then turns, facing the 
audience, saying :) 

By Jove ! That must be the face that launched a thousand ships* 
Crane. I beg your pardon ? 

(Lefferts sits down hurriedly.) 

Tucker. No, it's the cook. And you've seen her before, too " 

(They all look at Jane and smile, watching her exit.) 

(Jane noiv takes the other two soup plates to Crane and Tucker.) 

Lefferts. Oh, yes, rather a lovely little person, don't you think 
so? 

Tucker (in a very superior manner). Well, I have never been 
able to take much interest in the personal appearance of servants. 

Crane. Really, Tuck ! 

Tucker. Er— pass me the bread, please. 

(Crane passes him the bread.) 

Lefferts. I say beauty is beauty, wherever you find it. 

(Jane Ellen brings in a plate of corn bread, places it c. of table 
in front of Lefferts, and takes tureen off.) 



76 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Tucker. Sucli preoccupation with beauty has always struck 
me as decadent. 

Lefferts. And what exactly, Mr. Tucker, is your definition 
of decadent ? 

Tucker. Decadent is {He hesitates.) Decadent is — er — — • 

Lefferts. Yes, Mr. Tucker ? 

Tucker. Well, decadent is — er 

Lefferts. Yes ? 

Tucker. Well, it's simple enough, I should think. Decadent 
is — er 

Crane. Yes, Tuck, what is it ? 

Tucker. Will you please pass me the almonds ? 

Lefferts. A very comprehensive definition. 

Tucker. During a long and a varied experience at the bar ■ 

(Jane Ellen has entered, and noiv places the roast chichen and plates 
before Crane ; then goes with vegetables on tray to serving table.) 

Lefferts. Anyhow, the soup was delicious. 

Crane. Mr. Lefferts has been praising your soup, Jane Ellen. 

Jane. Thank you, sor. 

Weeks. Look here, what I should like to ask is, what has become 
of Smithfield ? 

Crane {carving the chicl-en). Smithfield ? Oh, Smithfield is 
indisposed. 

Weeks. You mean — he's sick ? 

{ChicJcen to Weeks.) 

Crane. No, I'm sick. Sick of him. I've discharged him, also 
the boy Brinbv, and the housemaid, Araminta. 
Weeks. What ! 
Crane. Yes, Mr. Weeks. 

{During this scene Jane hamls the plates to the three 'men, Weeks, 
Lefferts ayid Tucker. Chicken to Lefferts.) 

Weeks. Do you mean to tell me that you and Mr. Tucker and 
the cook are alone in this house ? 

Crane. I regret to say that Mr. Tucker also leaves me this 
evening. 

{Chicken to Tucker.) 
Weeks. Oh — but— but — Mr. Crane — — 



(Jane goes to serving table for vegetables.) 

Crane. Oh, some other time, Mr. Weeks, not now, a little 
later. After dinner. For the present, let's enjoy ourselves. 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 77 

Tucker. Yes, yes, yes, by all means, let's enjoy ourselves. 
Where's the butter ? 

{He discovers butter where Lefferts placed it. Jane hands vege- 
tables to Lefferts.) 

Weeks. But what I should like to ask is — er — that is^ — you 
can't mean to— you don't intend to^ 

Crane. I won't trouble you with my particular plans. My 
experience, Mr. Weeks, has been that nobody cares anything about 
anybody else's trifling little plans — their small domestic compli- 
cations— 

(Jane hands vegetables to Weeks.) 

Lefferts. Oh, come, now, I'm not so sure. It strikes me Mr- 
Weeks is very much interested, aren't you ? 

Weeks. Yes, yes, I am — extremely — er- — sincerely. . . . You 
see, I know what would be thought in a community like this — what. 
Avould be said. . . . You — er — you get my idea ? 

(Jane hands vegetables to Crane.) 

Crane. Not exactly. And what is more — what people think 
is a matter of small consequence to me. 

Weeks. Yes, yes, as a rule, of course. But in this case, I'm 
sure you'll agree with me if I can only j| 

Crane. Doubtless, but what is it exactly that you do mean ? 

(Jane serves vegetables to Tucker.) 

Lefferts. It's perfectly clear. Mr. Weeks means that in such 
a small community as this, if a young woman should find herself 
in a position, considered compromising by all the most prominent 
novelists and dramatists, she would^ — ■ — 

(Tucker helps himself to both vegetables. As Jane Ellen raises 
the tray, she deliberately rubs the hot dish against Tucker's ear. 
This business may cmne anytvhere during Lefferts' speech, and 
the instant 'Tjjckf.r jumps in his chair, Lefferts stops speaking.) 

Tucker {jumping to his feet). Ouch ! What the devil are you 
doing ? 

Jane. Oh, sor, I'm terrible sorry. 

Tucker. Sorry ! 

Jane. But I'm not used to waiting on the table. . . . {Puts 
vegetables dotvn and gets bottle of claret and crosses.) 

Crane. Tuck ! tuck ! It's all right, Jane Ellen. . . . Don't 
give it another thought. . . . Mr. Tucker has forgotten it already, 
haven't you, Tuck ? 

Tucker. Oh, yes, yes, of course. 

(Jane is back again by now at r. of Crane.) 



78 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

I hardly noticed it, anyhow. {Sits down again.) 
Jane. Oh, sor, how kind you are to me. 

(Wine to Crane. Lefferts laughs.) 

Lefferts. What a line old house this i.^. I should so like to 
know its history. 

(Jane pours ■wine for Weeks and then for Lefferts.) 

Tucker. Well, sir, it belongs — as you ])erhaps know — to a 
family named Daingertield, who held a highly honoured place in 
the history of this country, until they unfortunately espoused the 
wrong side in the C'ivii War. 

(Jane is going to jfour wine for Tucker ; just as a few drops are in 
his glass, he has said, " t~he ivrong side of the Civil War," Jane 
indignantly stops pouring urine, and moves towards pantry door.) 

Burton, she has omitted me. 

Crane. Jane Ellen, you have forgotten Mr. Tucker. 
Jane. Oh, yes, sor. 

{She comes hack and just half fills Tucker's glass and exits.) 

Weeks. In this part of the country, Mr. Tucker, we are not 
accustomed to thinking it the wrong side. 

Tucker. I believe that I am voicing the verdict of history. 

Crane. CTcntlemen — {In order to stop the quarrel : raising 
glass.) Gentlemen, I am very pleased to see you all here. 

{All drink.) 

Lefferts. Anyhow, the present g*meration of Daingerfields 
seem to be an amusing lot. Kandolph was speaking about them 
only last night. 

(Jane enters and goes to serving lahle.) 

He said one of the girls is particularly enchanting. He told me her 
name, too. Let me see, what was it ? 8uch a pretty name ! Oh, 
yes — Olivia ! 

Jane. Yes, sor ? 

Crane. No one spoke to you, Jane Ellen. 

Jane. No, sor. {She offers vegetables to Lefferts.) 

Lefferts. Randolph says she was a wholesale fascinator. {To 
Jane Ellen.) No, thank you. No, thank you. {He laughs.) 
Engaged to three men at one time, last summer. 

(Jane iaJces vegetables io Tucker. He does not look at her. He 
helps himself to both vegetables.) 

Weeks. Mr. Lefferts. Vd be obliged to you, sir, if you'd tel' 
Mr. Randolph, with ray compliments, that that's not true. 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 79 

Lefferts. Oh, isn't it ? Well, Tin sorry. 

(Jane hands vecjetahles U> Crane, ivho refuses.) 

Weeks. Oh, T don't blanu' you. You're a stranger here. But 
I do bhxme him, for circulating this groundless gossip about one of 
the loveliest young ladies in this State. 

Jane {offering Ttyetahles). Oh, potatoes, sir. 

(WeeKvS and Jane exchanr/e a bitter (fiance.) 
Weeks. Thank you, no ! 

(Jane Ellen rjoes to sideboard : puts vefjetahles on. tray, and takes 

them off.) 

Lefferts. Well, you know. I thought it all rather to the lady's 
credit. Especially in a neigh hour ho^jd where it must be rather 
dull, if you don't care for hunting. 

Weeks. That's not the point. The point is that it's not true. 

Lefferts. As you say, sir, just as you say ! 

Weeks. Miss Oliyia Daingerfield is one of the most admired 
and respected young ladies in Virginia. I may say, in the entire 
Soutli. 

Jane Ellen Jias returned an.d takes Lefferts^ and Weeks' plates)^ 

I have known her and her family since they were children. Since 
she was a child ! And 1 should certainly have known if anything 
of the kind had been the case. 

(Jane Ellen takes Crane's plate.) 

Lefferts. Do you know, I think Mr. Weeks is right, because 
frankly, I've never heard of a girl announcing more than one engage- 
ment at a time. Though, once or twice I have known of girls 
who 

{During Lefferts' speech, as Jane Ellen passes behind Tucker, 
he drops his napkin ; while he stoops to pick it up, she takes his 
plate aivay. When he discovers the loss of his dinner, it is the last 
straw. He looks first at the table, wonders where his dinner has 
gone, then looks after Jane Ellen as she exits, partly with anger 
and partly with pathos.) 

Tucker {exclaims). Burton, my dinner ! 

Crane. Yes, most of us have. Excuse me. . . . {Risi7ig and 
picking up the chicken.) Will you excuse me '\ She is not quite 
used to waiting at table, 

{He carries the chicken towards the pantry door, and meets Jank 
Ellen. She has the ice-cream, bowl. She puts down the bowl on 
side-table and takes the platter from Crane. You can just hear 



80 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

tnunnurs from Crane, " Oli, you are doing splendidly, excellently, 
etc.") 

You're getting on splendidly. {Coming back and taking Ms seat.) 
Pardon me, Mr. Lefferts, I interrupted you. We were speaking of 

Lefferts. Oh, no, it was nothing. I was merely talking non- 
sense. Do you know — ^I think Mr. Weeks might tell us what this 
Southern beauty looks like. 

Tucker. Oh, yes, yes, do ! 

Weeks. I can't think this is the time or place for retailing the 
charms of a young lady, as if it were a slave market. 

(Jaxe Ellex, handing ice cream howl to Weeks.) 

Jane. Ice cream, sor ? 
Weeks {helping himself). Thank you. 

Lefferts. It does not seem to me that I have spoken disrespect- 
fully of the lady. 

Tucker. Certainly not, sir, certainly not. 

(Jane hands ice cream, to Lefferts, who helps himself.)^ 

Crane. Of course not. It seems to me, Mr. Wec^ks, if you'U 
pardon my saying so — that you couldn't be any more touchy about 
it, if you yourself had been one of the young lady's simultaneous 
fiances. 

(Jane turns slightly up c, laughing.) 

(Tucker has been looking tvith admiring eyes dt the ice cream, and 
when Lefferts has helped him.se]f, he naturally thinks he tvill be 
served next, and. turns, almost puUing his hand out to take the spoon, 
when Jane Ellen deliberately passes him and, goes to Crane.) 

Weeks. Nothing of the sort, sir, nothing of the sort. 

Crane. Of course not, nobody says you were. Still I see no 
reason why you shouldn't give us a hunt — {he is helping himself to 
ice cream and here looks, at Jane Ellen) — as to whether the young 
lady is blonde or brunette, tall or short. 

Weeks {looking at Jane Ellen, who is now crossing behind Crane 
to Tucker). Perhaps I see at least one reason that you do not, 

(Tucker helps himself to ice cream.,) 

Crane. Perhaps. Well, I'll tell 3;'oii. Jane Ellen is well 
acquainted with Miss Daingerlicld. . . . 

(Jane Ellen takes ice oream off.) 

Weeks. Oh, no, no ! 

Crane. What ! Have you forgotten the exciellent testimonial 
the lady gave our cook ? 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 81 

Weeks. Eh ? 

Crane. You were prescRt, I think, when Mrs. Falkencr read 
it aloud. 

Weeks. Oh— oli — yes, yes — certainly. 

(Jane Ellen enters and goes to sideboard.) 

Crane. Jane Ellen, you've often seen Miss Olivia Daingerfield ? 

Jane. Yes, sor, now an' then. 

Crane. Tell us, what is she like ? 

Jane {coming a little forward). AVell, sor, 'tis not for the loikes 
of me to say a word again a young lady that Mr. Weeks admires 
so mucli. 

(Weeks ^icA-5 his napkin warningly below table at Jane. Lefferts 
round on chair. Business vnth Jane during her speech.) 

Ail the same — I got me own reasons for thinking there was more 
in thim yarns about her bcin' numerously engaged than what Mr. 
Weeks appears to be thinkin'. Servants picks up a good deal, sor. 
An' they do say that Miss Daingerfield, she 

Weeks {bursting out). Olivia ! 

Jane. Yes, sor. Miss Olivia Daingerfield. There bein' two of 
them. Miss Olivia, and Miss Elizabeth, an' as fcr looks, now^ — well, 
she is a sort of a — tall, white lily of a woman. A little taller than 
yourself. 

Crane. AVith yellow hair, I sup])ose. 

Jane. Indade, hair the colour of corn, rippling to her knees. 

Crane. Like a Greek goddess. I can see her before me now. 

Jake. What's that, sir ? 

Crane. In my mind's eye, Jane Ellen. 1 see her like a goddess, 
imperial and cold. 

Jane. Oh, yes, sir, a perfect goddess, except for a bit of a cast 
in one eye. 

(Lefferts laughs.) 

Y/eeks. Nothing of the sort. Nothing of the sort. 

Jane. Well, sor, of course, it was only a little teeny one — you 
couldn't be seein' it at all, unless you was very close to the young 
lady. Maybe that's why Mr. Weeks was never afther seein' it. 

Weeks. Nothing of the sort. 

Jane. An' she had a terrible dignified way v*^id her. Oh, terrible 
dignified. She'd make you shake in your shoes, so she would. 
{She turns to get cigar tray from , sideboard.) 

Crane. Jane Ellen, we're very much obliged to you. It was 
perfect. I feel almost as if Miss Olivia Daingerfield were standing 
here this moment before me. 

Jane {fjjith cigar tray in h^r hand). Faith, sir, if she yv\^s, wouldn't 

F 



82 CmiE OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

it be you that would be standin' ? {Places tray on table in front of 
Lefferts, then hack to sidehoard and blows candles out.) 

Crane {rising). For my part, I had imagined her quite different. 
I had supposed her, for instance, of medium height, roguish and 
piquante, with dark hair and eyes, and a mouth 

(Jane exits hurriedly into pantry.) 

Weeks. Mr. Crane, I regret to say, that if this conversation 
continues to deal disrespectfully with the appearance of a young 
lady for w^hom ■ {He rises angrily.) 

(Jane Ellen re-enters from 2^anlry with coffee service.) 
Crane. Disrespectfully, nonsense ! Now, I leave it to you' 
gentlemen, whether anything disrespectful has been said of Jane 
Ellen's old employer. 

TjFFFERTS ^ 

Tucker I {murmur). No, no, certainly not ! Of course not 

etc. 

(Crane sits.) 

Weeks. I apologize, Mr. Crane. {Sits down.) 
Crane. Well, have some coffee. 

{Jane Ellen serves coffee. Serving in following order : LEFFEkTS, 
Weeks, Crane and Tucker. As she puts down Tucker's cup, 
she also puts sugar bowl down. As Tucker puts out his hand 
to take sugar, she pushes it to Lefferts. The men take cigars 
and cigarettes. Jane exits into panto^y. The men now settle ilownr 
to smoke. Leaning hack in their chairs, taking the cue from Crane, 
all expel a cloud of smoke from their mouths at the same moment. 
There is a slight pause.) 

Lefferts {witfi a happy sigh, lights cigarette. Pauses. With 
a long puff.) Ah ! 

Tucker. These are very good cigars, Burton. 
Crane. Glad you like them, Tuck. 

(Tucker has helped himself to sugar, and places sugar bowl on his l. 
/or Crane. He then takes his coffee as Crane picks up bowl and 
offers it to Weeks.) 

Tucker. Just a minute, Burton, just a minute, I want another 
piece. 

Lefferts. That chicken w^as delicious. And those sweet 
potatoes. Southern style. . . . Mmmm ! Mmmmm ! Can't get 
'em up North. 

Crane. Mr. Weeks, you've eaten nothing. 

Weeks. No. I— I wasn't hungry. 

Lefferts. Late luncheon, Mr. Weeks ? 



eOME OPT OF THE KITCHEN. 8.1 

Weeks. Yes, ratlier ! 

Lefferts. Nothing the matter with your appetite, Mr. Tucker. 

(Tucker hurriedhj -places coffee down andjerhs his chair angrily hack.) 
Crane. No, Tuck, in ail the excitement I believe you never 

missed a stroke. 

Lefferts {to Tucker). You are a friend of the kitchen. 
Tucker. Possibly. How do you like our kitchen, yourself ? 

(Lefferts i.^ a little hit jarred at this.) 
Crane {coming to the rescue of Lefferts). How did you like it. 
Tuck ? 

(Tucker coughs.) 

Crane {to Weeks). Nice kitchen, isn't it, Mr. Weeks ? 

(Weeks is just drinJcing coffee, and some goes the wrong way.) 

(Jane Ellen enters, goes to the sidehoard.) 

Weeks. Oh, the kitchen's all right, I reckon ! 

Crane {rising, as he sees Jane enter). Gentlemen ! Stand I 

(They all rise, glasses in hand.) 

To the kitchen ! 

All. To the kitchen ! 

(They drink and sit.) 
(Jane exits into pantry.) 
Lefferts. By the way, where are all these Daingerfields, any- 
how ? 

Crane. I understood Mr. Weeks to say the Colonel and Mrs. 
Daingerfield were abroad. 

(Jane re-enters and goes to sideboard. Puts liqueur glasses on small 
tray. She is going out, hut lingers to hear what Weeks says.) 

Crane. The Colonel is quite ill, I believe, or am I wrong ? 

Weeks. Yes, that's quite true. 

Crane. Not seriously, I hope *? 

Weeks. Unfortunately, yes. He has just undergone a serioua 
operation. 

(Crane watche.^ Jane during speech.) 
In the absence of the family, I. as their agent, receive their tele- 
grams and mail. Just before I came here this evening, there w^as a 
cable to sav that the dear old Colonel was out of danger. 

Crane. ' Oh, I'm so glad. (Looking at Jane, until she exiis:) 

[Exit Jane into pantry again.) 



«4 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

No doubt you forwarded the good news to the children ? 

Weeks. Oh yes, yes, I have. 

Lefferts. And where are they, did you say ? 

Crane. Yes, Mr. Weeks, where are they ? 

Weeks. I regret — I'm not at liberty to say. 

Lefferts. Oh, Fm very sorry. I wouldn't have asked you for 
the world. 

Weeks. And what is more, Mr. Crane, I am afraid I am very 
much pressed for time. I understood Mr. Tucker to say over the 
'phone, that you wished to see me on business^ — so, if 

Crane (rises). Certainly, of course. ... I say, I say, Lefferts, 
would you and Tucker mind finishing your cigars in the drawing 
room ? {Going up to door l.c.) 

Lefferts {rising). Of course not. 

Tucker (rising). With pleasure. Burton. 

(Weeks moves e. Stands front of sideboard.) 

Crane (stands r. of door. Going to door and opening it). You 
don't mind, do you ? 

(Tucker crosses to l. of Crane.) 

You and Tucker have so much iii comnio}i. KitcJu ns and things. 
eh, Tuck ? 

Tucker. Possibly— possibly — but I understand that Mr. 
Lefferts specializes in cupboards. 

{He goes out with an air of dignified irium.ph.) 

Crane (to Lefferts, ivJio has now crossed to where Tucker ivas)- 
Hate to bother you, but I shan't be long. 

Lefferts. Fairy godfather, be just as long as you like. Be- 
sides, I've a letter to read. (He produces letter from his pocket.) 
By the way, you said five thousand dollars a year, didn't you ? 

Crane. Yes. Didn't you understand me ? 

IjEfferts. Oil, yes . . . but I love to hear you say it. 

(Exit Lefferts.) 

Crane (waves Weeks to chair r.). Please sit down, Mr. Weeks. 
{Closing door, sits in his own chair, facing audience.) Mr. Weeks, I 
rshali leave this place to-morrow. 

Weeks. What ? 

Crane. I have decided to break the lease. 

Weeks. Break the lease ? 

Crane. Exactly. 

Weeks. On what grounds ? W^hat do you mean ? 

Crane. The lease stipulated that you were to provide a staff 
of competent white servants, and you are my witiiess that to-night 
I have nobody left but the cook. 



COMK Ori^ OF THE KITCHEX. 85 

Weeks. Oh, como, now. We only agreed to provide the ser- 
vants. We could not guarantee that you woald not dismiss them. 

Crane. And why did I dismiss them ? I'll tell you. . . . The 
housemaid, for calling one of my guests an old harridan to her face. 
Mind you — I could have overlooked it if it had been behind her 
back. The boy, for attempting to assault another guest, and the 
butler for re-introducing this same violent boy into the house dis- 
guised as an old man. I really ought to have them all arrested. . . . 

{Move from AVeeks.) 

I rather think I will. 

Weeks, Mr. Crani\ I hope — I hope you don't ]nean that. 

Crane. I shouldn't like to feel I had allowed a dangerous gang 
to be turned loose on the countryside. 

Weeks. I give you my word they arc not that. I know all 
about them. 

Crane. None the less, there is a good deal to be explained. For 
example, how comes it that you are, I will not say a welcome, but 
at least an assured and certainly a surreptitious visitor to my 
kitchen ? 

Weeks {rises, miieJi emharrasscd. Moves round ahore chair). 
I do not feel called upon to explain my conduct* to any one. 

Crane. You refuse to answer ? 

Weeks. I do. 

Crane. Upon statutory grounds ? 

Weeks. What do you mean, sir ? 

Crane. Upon the ground that to answer might tend to incrim- 
inate or degrade you. 

Weeks {angrilij). No, sir. Certainly not, sir. And if you think 
you can 

Crane. Tut, tut. Another thing I I should like to ask you 
how an Irish girl like Jane Ellen can be a full sister to a ])air of more 
or less Englishmen, like Smithfield and Brinby ? 

Weeks. Nonsense ! 

Crane. Yet that is the case. 

Weeks. Who said so l 

Crane {quotimj Weeks). One of the most admired and respected 
young ladies in Virginia — I may say, in the entire South. 

Weeks. What's her name ? 

Crane (rises). That, my dear sir, is what I want you to tell me. 
(Comes round back of table.) Well, sir, what have you to say '( 

Weeks. Nothing. 

Crane. Do you deny that Brinby and Smithfield and Jant3 
Ellen are brothers and sister ? 

Weeks. I — I don't see what that has to do with it. 

Crane. You don't deny it. 

Weeks. No — ah— and I don't affirm it. 



86 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Crane. And you don't explain it ? 
Weeks. No ! (Moves to l. end of table.) 

Craxe (moves to r.c, behind table). And for ail I know, Araminta 
is — by Jove . . . ! Jane Ellen ! 

{Enter Jane Ellex, frotti pantry.) 

Jane Ellen ! Come here, please. Jane Ellen, is Araminta your 
hister ? 

(Jane hesitates, glances at Weeks, ivho makes sign of caution to her> 
then bach to Crane.) 

Jane. Well, sor, ye see, I feel a;^ if she was — we've been that 
long together, sor^ — an' she always so swate and obligin' to me an' 
everythin' the like o' that, an* oh, sor, ye'U be cxcusin' me jist 
the half av a minute, sor. I got some apples bakin' in the shtove. . . . 

(She bolts from the room.) 

Crane (comes doivn r. of table, looks at Weeks a moment). There 
are four Daingerfield children, I think you said ? 

Weeks. Yes, four. 

Crane. Two boys and twc girls ? 

Weeks. Yes. ' 

Crane (a pause). Mr. Weeks, have you the assurance to stand 
there and tell me, as a Southern gentleman, that you think I have 
been treated down here with all the consideration I deserve ? 

Weeks. I think, on my honour, sir, that you have been treated 
with unpaTalleled distinction, sir. 

•Crane. Well, I have lived in one continuous three-day riot, if 
that's what you mean. Have you anything to say ? 

Weeks. No, sir— nothing. 

Crane. In that case, no more have I, except — g'ood evening. 

Weeks (moves up). Good evening. 

Crane (moves to mantel c). I ^ihall break the lease. If you and 
the Daingerfields feel yourselves aggrieved, you have my permission 
to sue. 

Weeks. But — but — my dear sir, if — if you only knew — — ■ 

Crane. Perhaps. But I don't . . . and you won't tell me. 

Weeks. I— I— oh ! I can't ! I can't, and that\s the truth ! 

Crane. Then, good evening, Mr. Weeks. 

(Weeks exits door l.c, but returns at once.) 

Weeks (up to Crane). Ah — h, one more thing— it's about you 
and^ — and Jane Ellen— staying here all alone. 

Crane. Oh, yes, you're concerned about the cook's reputation. 

Weeks. Ye'es, I— I am, sir. 

Crane. Really, Mr. Weeks, don't you thick this is carrying 
SoutJiern chivalry rather far ? 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 87 

Weeks. No, vsir, I don't t 

Crane {ringinc/ the hell). Very well, we'll let the cook decide for 
lierself . If she likes, she can go and stay the night with my chauf- 
feur's wife. 

Weeks {scandalized at this, too). Mr. Crane ! 

Crane. Dear me ! Mr. Weeks, you seem very hard to please. 

{Enter Jane Ellen from pantri/.) 

Oh, Jane Ellen, in a little while you and I are to be the only persons 
left under this roof. This idea strikes Mr. Weeks as undesirable. 
How do yoti feel about it ? 

Jane. Me, sor ? 

Crane. Would you like to go and sleep with my chauffeur's 
wife ? 

Jane. Faith, sor, an' I don't think I would. Sure, I'm much 
obliged to Misther Weeks, but I'm not afraid. 

Weeks. But think — think what will people say ? 

Jane. Faith, Mr. Weeks, they'll know nothin' at all about it, 
av you was to hould ye're tongue. {Goes to sideboard.) 

Crane. You see, Mr. Weeks. Anything else ? 

Weeks {alinost jnirple with indignation). I — I shall go at once and 
find her brothers. {Going.) 

Crane {with a cry). Ah ! then you do admit it ! 

Weeks. Admit what ? 

Crane. That they are her brothers. 

Weeks {shouting a mixture of rage and grief). No, I don't ! 

{With this, he rushes from the room, closing door l.c. after him.) 

Crane {after a pause ; going down stage l.). Please sit down, 
Jane Ellen. 

Jane. Thank ye, sor, but I'd rather be standin'. 

Crane. Just as you please. Jane, I shall be leaving directly 
after breakfast. 

Jane. What, sor ? 

Crane {moves to c, front of table). I have told Mr. Weeks that 
I've decided to break the lease. 

Jane. Sure, ye could get more servants in a day or two. Misther 
Weeks was goin' to do that, anyway. An' I'd be stayin' on till ye 
could 

Crane. It isn't that— so much, Jane Ellen. The thing's not 
turned out as I had — er — expected. My guests have all left me — 
i-n various stages of anger^ — and, well, my holiday's spoiled. I shall 
go. 

Jane. Sure, 'twill be cruel bad news for— for the young Dai^ge^- 
fields, I'm thinkin'. 



88 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 

Crane. I daresay they won't mind my going. 

Jane. Ah, sor — -'tis worse than that — -far worse. They'd never 
have been rentin' the old place if they hadn't been near starvin'. 

Crane {kneels on chair). You're very much attached to them, eh, 
Jane Ellen ? 

Jane. Ye might say that, sor. 

Crane. Especially to the old Colonel, eh ? 

Jane. Yes, sor. 

Crane. But the tall, dignified goddess, Olivia -you don"t care 
much for her ? 

Jane. Well, sor, if the truth was known, she's got her points. 

Crane. But you couldn't stand the woman any longer, could 
you? 

Jane. What's that, sor ? 

Crane. You were tired of seeing her around the place. Didn't 
you say so ? 

Jane. Oh, well, faith I didn't care what I was sayin' to that — ■ 
old — to that Mrs. Falkener, beggin' your pardon, sor. 

Crane. Jane Ellen, something was said at diniKT that distressed 
me deeply. 

Jane. Who was it said it, sor ? 

Crane. You. 

Jane. Me, sor • 

Crane. I .was sorry to hear that you believed in Miss Olivia's 
triple engagement. 

Jane. What is it to vou, when ve're not aither knowin' her at 
all? 

Crane. Oh, yes, I know her. 

Jane {after a pause). Well, sor, I'm sorry I said anything about 
a friend av yours, sor. I was supposin' she was quite a shtranger 
to ye. {Drops her eyes.) 

Crane. I v/onder if I shall ever really know her. At times she 
seems very near, as near as you are to me — ^and again, suddenly, 
like a sprite, she dances far awav. Whv does she do thut, Jane 
Ellen ? 

Jane. Belike, sor, belike, "tis only her way. 

Crane. I was afraid that perhaps it was because she didn t 
trust me. Do you think it could be that, Jane Ellen ? {Harhd 
husiiiess.) Jane Ellen, I love her. {Kneels on chair c. towards her 
as he catches her left hand. A jmuse.) Will you tell her when you 
see her ? 

Jane. You must take a poor girl's advice an' don't be hasty. 
Indade, she's a good bit av a minx. {Pause.) Are ye quite sure 
now ? . . . 

Crane. Yes, yes. She's the most adorable thing I ever saw, and 
if she will not love me — ■ — 



Jane {after a little pause) . Faith, your honour, an' what- 



-COMK OUT Oh' THE KITCHEN. 89 

(Crane drojis hand.) 
—if she will not love you ? 

Crane. Jane Ellen, v^cre you ever abroad in the early morning 
in the springtime- -just before the sun had risen ? 
Jane. Faith, then, I was. 

Crane. Well, then, you may refiiember that the trees, fche flowers, 
the grass, the water, the sky — ail the earth — seemed waiting, hushed, 
with its fingers on its lips — waiting — for the dawn. All my life's 
been like that, Jane Ellen, v/aifcing, watching for the loveliest, the 
sweetest thing to happen. And now — now, when it's so near— - 
- Jane {after a pause). Sure. 'Tis very deep — an' chilly at that 
hour o' the morning. 

Crane {turns down l. a little. In despair). Ah, you're making 
fun of me. 

Jane. Not me, your honour. Faith, 'tis not mesilf cud iver be 
that bould. 

Crane. Jane Ellen, in a little while, w^hen I pass through that 
door, it may be for the last time, and though I may never see her 
unforgettable face, or hear her Messed voice again, all that I am and 
hope for is hers. And though her heart may never turn to me I 
still shall bless her name, because it is so wonderful to know that 
anything so lovely as herself can be. And that's my last message 
to her, Jane Ellen. Do you think you can remember to tell her 
that? 

Jane. Sure, then. Hi try — only — only she's that conceited 
there'll be no livin' wid her at all, at all. 

Crane. But you must tell her just the same. You will. 

Jane. Faith, then, I will. 

Crane. Thank you. 

(He takes her right hand with both of his, She lets him take her hand. 
Suddenly he lifts it to his lips, then lowers her hand and turns to 

go.) 

And now, good-bye, Jane Ellen, good-bye. 

{She pulls kim back to original position.) 

Jane Ellen ! 

Jane. Did you realty like my cooking ? 
Crane. Olivia ! 

{They embrace.} 

CUI-CTALN". 



,90 COME OUT OF T^TS KIT■C•HlI^r. 



ACT I 

Three framed pictures (2 still life, 1 portrait). 

One bell pull fastening. 

One tapestry hell pull, brass end pieces. 

Two brass curtain rods (12 rings on each). 

Four brackets supports for same. 

Two pairs of grey curtains. 

Large Axminster carpet (fawn). 

Two Axminster rugs. 

One Persian rug (browTi). 

One large blue and white vase. 

One mahogany bracket clock. 

One large painted satinwood settee. 

Four small painted satinwood chairs. 

Two arm painted satinwood chairs. 

One Chesterfield. 

One half-circle painted satinwood table. 

One round painted satinwood table. 

Three cushions (2 tapestry, 1 black satin). 

One gilt French clock. 

One Adam brass and iron fire grate. 

One painted and inlaid satinwood writing desk. 

Two coffee cups and saucers. 

Two coffee spoons. 

Electro-plated spirit la^mp. 

Small silver cigarette box. 

Coffee. 

Matches. 

Cigars. 

Cigarettes. 

Letter (with cheque). • 

Letter (reference). 

Two small ash trays. 

One French footstool. 

One circular gilt mirror with eagle. 

One brass fender. 

One set brass fire-irons. 

One embroidery fire screen. 

Two blue and white china bowls. 

Two blue and white china vases (straight). 

Three blue and white china vases with lids (1 not used). 

Artificial roses. 

Artificial chrysanthemums. 

American magazines. 

Miniature in oval gilt frame on table L.c. 

Bag of golf clubs by door. 

Attache case. 

Strap. 

Books. 

Blotting pad. 

Pen-tra3\ 

Ink pot. 

Pens. 

Handbag x^-ith initials O.D. 

Duster. ^ 

Motor horn (Klaxon). 

Door knocker. 

Small round salver. 

91 



92 COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN, 



ACT II 

AVhite stone sink, with plug on brass chain and waste pipe. 

Stand for sink. 

Draining board with hinged trestle. 

Iron pump (secured with bolts to ;) 

Board backing for pump with bolts to secure to flat 

.Shelf with attached brackets (pin hinges to cupboard backing). 

Six bells with pendulums on board ; three bells wired, clips to attach whole to, 

flat. 
Green blind to window, clips to attach. 
Two small rush-seated arm chairs. 
Kitchen table covered American cloth. 
Dresser with shelves. 
Small kitchen table. 

Pot rack vvdth hooks, clips to attach to flat. 
Kitchen range. 

Towel roller and supports. Clip to attach to door. 
Small flour barrel on dresser. 
Coal scuttle. 
Ice cream freezer. 

Picture in frame (Geo. Washington). 
Two roller towels. 
Scrubbing brush. 
Dish mop. 
Iron cauldron. 
Dustpan. 
Hand brush. 
Two brooms. 
Mop. 

Bannister brush." 
Seven tins (provisions). 
Enamel tray. 
Plates to break. 
Broken plate. 
Six dishcloths. 

Box containing boot-brush, pair of boots 
Two Willow pattern dishes on dresser. 
Twelve Willow pattern plates on dresser. 
Three jugs. 
One enamel mug. 
Two large bowls. 
Two basins. 
Tin of baking powder. 
Sieve. 

Packet of quaker oats. 
Ironing board. 

Two copper saucepans with lids. 
Two small frjang pans (copper). 

93 



.94 

Two large frying pans (copper). 

Five baking pans. 

Grid iron. 

Five wooden spoons. 

Kitchen clock. 

Iron holder. 

Pepper pot. 

Salt shaker. 

Sugar dredger. 

Kettle (large iron). 

Flat iron. 

Potato knife. 

Kitchen knife. 

Kitchen fork. 

Plate. 

Jam pot. 

Stone bottle. 

Nutmeg grater. 

Three white cups. 

White bowl. 

Blue and white cup. 

Two lace collars. 

Chicken. 

Blue, white and gilt dish. 

Two enamel boWls. 

Blue and white jug. 

Tin bowl. 

Grease. 

Flour. 

Cornmeal. 

Doughnuts. 

Butter. 

Treacle. 

Sherry. 

Nutmeg. 

Parsley. 

Eggs. ' 

Milk. 

Handkerchiefs. 

Letter. 

Cablegram. 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 95 



ACT III 



Oval dining table. 
8ix small chairs. 
Persian rug. 

Large Sheraton sideboard. 
Mahogany serving table. 
Mahogany firescreen. 
Two mahogany knife boxes. 
Square Turkey carpet. 
Butter tray stand. 
Green folding screen. 
Oak fender. 

Steel fireirons set with stand. 
Bell pull fixing. 

Printed linen bell pull, brass ends. 
Bronze and marble clock. 
Two bronze and marble ornaments. 
Half round mahogany side table for bctv/een v/inJows. 
Two pairs brackets for curtain rods. 
Two curtain rods and rings doubled Iroir? Act I.. 
Two pairs green silk brocade curtains. 
Large blue and Avhite vase. 
White table cloths. 
Table napkins. 
Two three-armed candelabra. 

Carving knife and fork. 

Dinner bell. 

Set of six dish mats. 

Two wine decanters. 

Four sherry glasses. 

Four large wine glasses. 

Small plated salver doubled from Act I. 

Two plated forks. 

Seven plated table spoons. 

One plated soup ladle. 

Four plated tea spoons. 

Four plated coffee spoons. 

Four large knives. 

Four small knives. 

Blue and white flower boAvl doubled fio:m Act t 

Artificial roses. 

Plates, bread basket. 

Two glass salt cellars. 

Two plated salt spoons. 

Glass and plated butter dish. 

Plated butter knife. 

Glass dish. 

B 9^ 



COME OUT OF THE KITCHEN. 97 



Plated pepper pot. 

Glass and plated salt shaker. 

Wine basket. 

Water bottle. 

Four glass ice plates. 

Plated dish with lid. 

Plated spoon. 

Small oak tray. 

Ci<Tar box. 

Silver cigarette box 

Spirit lamp doubled from Act I. 

Four soup plates. 

Five meat plates. 

Three vegetable dishes. 

One meat dish. 

Odk butler's tray. 

Cut glass bowl. 

Large plated tray. 

Four coffee cups and saucers. 
(2 doubled from Act I.). 

Plated sugar basin. 

Plated sugar tongs. 

Plated cream jug. 

Almonds. 

Olives. 

Salt. 

Sherry. 

P'jrt. 

Bottle of claret. 

Coffee. 

Sugar. 

Soup. 

Butter. 

Bread. 

Com bread. 

Chicken. 

IJoughnuts. 

"\'egetables. 

Ice Cream. 

Cigarettes. 

Cigars. 

Matches. 

Cablegram. 

Letter. 

Wig and whiskers. 



V 



LIGHTING PLOT 

ACT I 
Scene 1. 

Floats, 2 circuits white. 

1 circuit dark amber. 
No. 1 Batten. 2 circuits dark amber. 
Perches R. and L. Flood. Frost & Straw. 
Lengths. Outside Door C. 2 dark amber lengths. 
Outside windows l. 2 white lengths. 

1 dark amber length. 
Stage. Outside windows L. Half-watt flood. Frost & Straw. 

Scene 2. 

Floats and No. 1 Batten as Scene 1. 

Perches E. and L. Flood. Frost and dark amber. 

Lengths, Outside door c. 2 dark amber lengths. 

Outside windows L. 3 blue lengths. 

Outside windows. Half- watt flood. Frost and steal blu: 
Chandelier. 2 dark amber candle fittings alight. 

ACT i;i 

Floats. 2 circuits white. 
1 circuit amber. 
No. 1 Batten. 2 circuits amber. 
Perches B. and L. Frost and straw. Flood. 
Stage. Small amber length in door up r. 

2 amber lengths outside window and door R.C. 

2 half-watt floods. Straw and frost on back cloth. 

1 amber length outside door down l, 

1 orange-red bulb in kitchen stove. 

1 electric heater in stove. 

ACT III 

Floats. 2 circuits white. 
1 circuit amber. 
No. 1 Batten. 2 circuits amber. 
Perches R. and L. Flood frost and dark amber. 
Stage. 1 amber length outside door r.c. 
1 amber length outside door l.c. 
3 blue lengths outside windows l. 
1 half-watt flood outside windows L. 
Chanielier. 3 amber bulbs. 
Table la'nps. 2 siiglo table lamps on raantslpiese c. 

98 



